Balefire
by Riverstyxx
Summary: Charla's journey continues, and this time she isn't alone. But the Dark Army is also on the move, and whispers begin to spread of an approaching lunar eclipse said to shroud the world in darkness. As this eternal night draws near, the Well of Souls spears through the shadows like a sinister blazing beacon—one that the apes, and Charla herself, cannot ignore. [Sequel to Firelight]
1. Shadows on the Sand

_**Author's Notes:**_

 **Howdy, strangers! Remember me? I'm back at last with the sequel to _Firelight!_ If you don't know what _Firelight_ is, then git outta here, ya scrub. Nothing will make sense here if you haven't read that first!**

 **As for the rest of you, welcome! I battled through a slog of confusion and self doubt to write the first few chapters of this story, and I'm still not entirely convinced it's ready to share - but, knowing me, I'll never think it's ready. So here, finally, after several months, is the continuation of Charla's story.** **I hope you enjoy the adventure!**

 **Now, as we approach the events of _The Eternal Night_ , let us return to see where Charla has ended up this time...**

* * *

...

 **BALEFIRE**

...

 _In the endless night, a haunting choir_

 _Sings peals of sorrow and dark desire_

 _To guide us through the mist and the mire_

 _And into the flames of the balefire_

...

 **Chapter 1**

 **Shadows on the Sand**

"The Arid Lands. A sprawling desert of hot sand and towering dunes, hospitable to few and inhabited by fewer. Bordered at the south by the dangerous Concurrent Skies—the fortress of Cynder, Terror of the Skies, herself—and guarded in the north by the great dragon city of Earthsoul.

"And, at this very moment, playing host to an unusual group of intrepid adventurers."

"What does intrepid mean?"

Nuala paused halfway into her next word and glared at Charla. "I'm telling a story here! Don't interrupt."

"Oh. Whoops."

Nuala huffed and opened her mouth again—but paused, because Meredy had just leant over and whispered loudly in Charla's ear, "It means 'brave.' "

"When you're done," Nuala said flatly, and Meredy sat back with a sheepish look on her face. Charla grinned.

"As I was saying..." Nuala drew herself up, pushed back the lock of white fur on her forehead, and fixed her audience with bright ice-blue eyes. "Nuala and her companions were an unusual group for a number of reasons. For one—"

" _Nuala_ and her companions?" Charla cut in, wrinkling her muzzle. "Why are we _your_ companions? I think it should be _Charla_ and—"

"I'm telling the story!" Nuala insisted, flicking her feathered wings out. "And I'm the adult here, so I'm in charge."

"Fine..."

" _As_ I was saying... The great Nuala and her companions were a strange group. For one, they were led by a vulpala, and yet the rest of them were dragons— Yes, Meredy, I know you're not really a dragon, but just roll with it, okay? It sounds better this way.

"For another, they were all children—except for Nuala, of course, and that was why she was in charge. And all of them had very strange stories to tell. Meredy, the sky serpent who could not fly. Lance, the earth dragon who refused to use his element. Charla, the young fire dragon raised by apes. And Nuala herself, the last vulpala in the whole world.

"Together, they travelled north in search of their goals, with only each other for protection from the wicked dangers of the world. And lo, after many trials, they found themselves wandering lost in the great endless desert that is the Arid Lands..."

At this, Charla couldn't help herself. "We're not lost. We're—"

"I'm telling a story, Charla!" Nuala exclaimed, throwing her forepaws up with a flurry of sand. "Would you two give it a rest with the interruptions! I'm trying to create suspense!"

"You said this was a ghost story, Nu," Meredy said, somewhat accusingly. "I don't mean to be rude, but this just sounds like an account of our travels."

Nuala crossed her forepaws and glowered. "It'll turn into a ghost story if you just let me _tell_ it. You two need to learn to shut your traps. Look, _Lance_ hasn't interrupted me. Be like him."

Charla turned her head, trying to hide her grin. Lance was slumped in the sand beside her, his eyes closed, his jaw slack, and his breaths deep and even. In the pale moonlight he looked calm and peaceful, and the many scars that twisted his deep-green scales were hardly visible. If she listened closely, she thought she could hear him snore.

"That's because he's asleep," Meredy pointed out.

"Just how I like him," said Nuala.

Meredy rolled her eyes.

With another fond look at the slumbering Lance, Charla tipped her head back and let her eyes wander among the stars. It was a clear night. Unhindered by clouds or mist, the moons hung bright and shimmering above the great desert dunes, and a chill breeze whispered across the sand. Midnight must have been hours ago, but there was no glow of dawn in the eastern sky.

Charla liked the Arid Lands best when they were like this. She may have been a fire dragon, but she didn't like the hot winds that whipped over the sands at midday, or the blaze of the sun as it beat down relentlessly on her scales. Even the dunes seemed friendlier in the dark. During the day they blazed like golden fire under the sun, but at night they were silver, soft and slumbering, like sleeping giants—or enormous waves frozen in time. At times, Charla could almost imagine she was standing on the surface of an endless ocean turned to sand.

Right now, she and her friends were nestled in a shallow valley between these silver giants, resting their wings and waiting. When Lance awoke, they'd move on. They had to travel as far as they could while the sun was down and there was no heat to sap them of strength—but, right now, Lance needed to rest a little.

It was hard for him, Charla knew, to carry Meredy for so long. She couldn't imagine how much his wings hurt.

"So, can I tell the story now?" Nuala asked, and Charla pulled her gaze away from the sky. "Can you two shut up for a few minutes?"

"Yes, Nu, sorry," said Meredy, curling her tail around so that the tuft of fur on its tip draped over her forepaws. She was shivering a little.

Struck by a sudden idea, Charla half-opened her mouth to voice it—but Nuala had already started to speak and she probably wouldn't appreciate another interruption. Instead, Charla shrugged, listened, and slowly began to channel fire magic into her paws. At night, the air here was chill and biting. The least she could do was give them a little warmth.

"So there our strange group of brave adventurers were, lost in the bowels of the desert, somewhere in that unforgiving landscape between Concurrent Skies and Earthsoul—so close to civilization, and yet so far. They had no food, no water, and only the stars to guide their way. But though the Arid Lands were quiet and still, our adventurers were not alone...

"Nuala and her friends knew it well. Every night they heard the eerie howls of the creatures that prowled upon the desert sands. Every night they felt the presence of hunters on the wind. Every night, the jackals drew closer...

"Listen."

Nuala paused and so did Charla, a little ball of flame hovering half-formed between her paws. Meredy raised her head. In silence, all three of them sat and waited, and Charla's stomach tensed in anticipation. But there was no sound. Just the wind breezing over desert, teasing puffs of sand from the peaks of the dunes. Charla relaxed again.

"What are we listening for?" she asked, returning her attention to her orb of fire. The flames licked at her paws and warmth seeped comfortingly through her scales.

"Shh," Nuala hissed, her eyes narrowed. "Keep listening."

They listened more. Charla's ball of fire grew bigger; she let it go with a flick of her paw and it drifted lazily over the sand to hover between them. The flickering light turned Nuala's fur orange.

"Oh, come on, you stupid jackals," Nuala muttered under her breath. "You carry on every night like a bunch of lunatics, but right when I need you—"

A howl rippled through the air, distant but clear in the silence. Charla shivered, and Meredy drew her tail a little more tightly around herself. Nuala's eyes glinted with triumph.

"Hear that?" she whispered, turning to her wide-eyed audience. "They're getting closer. Every night; every hunt. They're hungry, and we are lost in their domain—foolish travellers far from home, strangers to the desert. Easy prey..."

Nuala stood up, swivelling her ears back, and suddenly Charla wished she hadn't lit a fire. The blazing light cast sharp and menacing shadows across Nuala's face, and her eyes seemed to glow. The pads of Charla's paws prickled.

"Every night we see them," Nuala hissed, pacing closer to the orb of flame. "Their bodies shift and change, like they are made of smoke and shadows—like they are darkness brought to life. They watch us and they wait. They herd us closer, guide us into the heart of the desert, from whence we can't escape...

"And sooner or later..." The fire danced wildly in her eyes. "When the time is right..."

The shadows shifted. In the space of a single blink, Nuala was gone—left behind were only firelight and fading pawprints in the sand—and sudden fear shot like an arrow through Charla's heart. She felt hot breath on the back of her neck.

"...One of us will be taken."

Charla choked out a cry and spun around; for a split second her vision was filled with the image of a slender inky-furred face and a pair of vivid silver eyes. Her heart stopped. And then fire leapt from her jaws and blazed a path through the darkness.

"Wh— _hey_!" yelped Nuala's voice, with a mixture of fear and indignation. Somewhere behind her, Meredy gasped.

Charla snapped her mouth shut and stumbled back. The jackal—if that was what it had been—was no longer there. There was only Nuala, rolling in the sand and patting out glowing embers on her chest-fur. She looked so flustered and startled that Charla had to bite back a wild urge to laugh.

Her heart was racing. She sat down heavily. "You _scared_ me!"

"You breathed _fire_ at me!" Nuala shot back.

"What did you expect, Nuala?" exclaimed Meredy, startling both of them. They spun around and found her glowering at them, her peach-coloured eyes blazing with firelight. "That was just mean. Was that really necessary?"

"It's a ghost story! It's meant to be scary! You two have no sense of humour—seriously, Charla, _fire_? You could have burnt my feathers!"

"I panicked!" Charla insisted, but she couldn't hold back her grin. In spite of Meredy's words, she didn't feel annoyed; in fact, now that her heart had stopped pounding and she knew what had happened, she thought it had been a pretty cool prank. Maybe she could even scare Lance like that...

"Pair of sissies," Nuala muttered under her breath as she sat down by the fire and pawed again at her chest-fur. "Can't take a joke. Can't handle a little ghost story..."

Meredy sighed. "Alright, that will do. No one's hurt. Are you okay, Charla?"

Charla grinned and fell back on her haunches. "Yeah, I thought that was cool! Did you turn yourself into a jackal?"

Nuala raised her head with an expression that suggested she was trying not to look too pleased. "Of course I did. I couldn't exactly get a real one here. Not very friendly, are they?"

At that moment, another distant howl rang out over the sleeping dunes and all three of them gave a start. Charla shared a sheepish grin with Nuala. But as the silence returned and began to press in on them, her smile started to falter. Doubt crept into her head.

"The jackals aren't really hunting us...right?" she said, trying to sound casual.

Nuala spared her half a glance, looking vaguely amused. "I don't know. What do you think?"

Charla hesitated. Another howl split the night and she hid the tremble of her paws by burying them in the sand. The jackals were still a mystery to her; they had been since she'd first seen them, that first night in the Arid Lands. The way their bodies moved and shifted like smoke; the way they seemed to disappear into their own shadows; the way they darted across the dunes, so swift and graceful, like their paws did not even need to touch the shifting silver sands. They were like ghosts—unearthly and unexplainable.

But she knew one thing.

"Lance said they wouldn't bother us if we didn't bother them," she said, more strongly than she felt. "And I believe him."

Nuala shrugged and looked away, shadowing her face from the firelight. "If that's what you want to think... But you have to admit there's some weird rumours about them."

At this, Charla faltered. "...Rumours?"

Nuala gave her a weird look. "Yeah, you know... The whole 'dreams' thing? The disappearing children? The weird deaths?"

Charla just stared back, her paws prickling with unease.

"I don't think she knows," said Meredy softly, her voice barely rising above the crackling of the flames. "If she was raised by apes... Maybe they never had those superstitions."

Nuala just shrugged, as though it was of no concern, but Charla was suddenly seized by a burning curiosity.

"What superstitions?" she asked, leaning forward. "Can you tell me?"

There was a moment of pause. Meredy seemed hesitant, weaving her claws through the fur on her tail, but eventually she murmured, "I suppose I could..."

Charla waited with wide eyes, holding her breath. Meredy averted her gaze and stared into the flames.

"I first learned about jackals when I was very young. It's said they have a strange magic—shadow magic, they call it—and no one's really sure what sort of magic it is. It might be elemental, like what we have, or it could be a type of illusion magic—like Nuala's. Whatever it is, they're very in tune with it.

"I've heard that they can turn their whole bodies into shadow; that they can _become_ darkness itself. It's a very...eerie magic. I suppose that's where all the superstition comes from."

She fell silent, briefly, then took a breath and went on. "The most well-known tale is that jackals are the guides of the Starward Shore. When it's your time to die, they'll come to lead your soul away, to guide you there."

The Starward Shore... Charla knew that name. Silverback had told her of it long ago, when she was still young and naive and knew nothing about death. It was the place where all creatures went when they died, to be greeted by their ancestors and to join them among the stars.

"But the tale has become twisted and sinister over the years," Meredy added quietly. "We're all so afraid of death that the jackals became like villains. Something to blame... They say that if a jackal appears in your dreams, you don't have long left to live. And that, should a jackal ever try to guide you, you should never follow it..."

"Because it will lead you away to die," said Nuala, with a wicked sort of grin. Meredy gave her a reproachful look, but she didn't seem to notice. "That's what they say, anyway. There's heaps of stories about creatures disappearing in jackal territory, usually cubs and hatchlings... The jackals lure them away from their parents and then devour them. I guess you could say that's 'guiding them to the Starward Shore,' right?"

Her narrow teeth flashed in the flickering light. Charla shivered.

"That," Meredy said a little sharply, "is just an unfortunate rumour started by all these silly tales of death. Personally, I prefer the other tale."

Charla eyed her curiously. "Which is...?"

She twisted the fur on the end of her tail. "Well...it goes like this. Jackals are guides of the spirit. They appear in your dreams, not to lead you to the Starward Shore, but to help you find your way if you are lost or confused or have lost sight of who you are. If a jackal appears to you, you are not marked for death—you just need a little bit of help, a little guidance, to find your way."

"Do you think that's true?" Charla asked, wide-eyed.

"Maybe, maybe not," said Nuala. "I like the spooky version better."

In the firelight, Charla saw Meredy's pale cheeks flush with colour. "W-well...I don't know. When I was young, I used to have nightmares about jackals. It was my friend's fault—she told me about them. I kept thinking I was going to die, because I was seeing them in my dreams... But then my father told me the other tale, and the nightmares stopped after that. I've never dreamed of a jackal since."

"And you didn't exactly die when you dreamed of them before," Nuala pointed out with a grin. "So I guess it must be superstition after all."

"I suppose so..." Meredy gave a small smile and looked away, so that her face was shadowed from the light.

Silence returned to them then, and Charla let her thoughts wander and wondered if any of it could be true. If jackals could really step into her dreams. If any magic like that really existed...

As a gust of cold wind swept over her wings, she shivered and looked down at Lance. He was still fast asleep and snoring. Somehow, she doubted he'd wake on his own before morning.

"Should we wake him up?" she asked, and Nuala heaved a sigh.

"Probably. We'd better keep going. The sooner we're out of this desert, the sooner we can get a decent night's sleep. It can't be far now."

Charla glanced towards the northern horizon. Peaking over the top of the dunes, just barely visible in the distance and the darkness, was a jagged mountain range. It was faint and ghostly, like a mirage that had never fully taken form, but it was there. At the base of those mountains—Earthrise Range, according to Lance—was their next destination. The dragon city of Earthsoul.

The mountains had come into view only earlier that evening. After almost four days of travelling through the desert, without food or water, it was something of a relief. But Charla didn't want to think about how long they had left to go. That morning in the foothills of Sunback Ridge, when they had set out together towards the north and the Arid Lands, seemed like ages ago.

"I hope we get there soon," she murmured, looking at Lance's peaceful sleeping face.

Nuala grunted. "Well, we won't if we just sit here all night. The big guy's slept enough, lazy jerk—give him a poke."

So Charla grinned and did just that.

* * *

 _"Listen, Charla... We need to go with them. They'll never make it through the Arid Lands on foot, not like this."_

 _"Go with them? You want to go_ with _them? But... But it's in the wrong direction! We're already so far from the Well of Souls—"_

 _"They need our help, kid. Meredy still can't fly, and they've got no supplies. They'd never make it through the desert without us..."_

 _..._

 _"I told you, I'm not leaving Meredy alone here! She'd never make it through the Arid Lands on her own. If you want me to come with you to the Well of Souls, then_ you _need to come with us first!"_

 _..._

 _"Charla, look. I_ know _it's a huge detour. But travelling through the middle of the Dragon Realms is suicide. The apes are everywhere. You think you can just waltz along the Serpens River and no one will notice? It's one of the biggest trade routes between here and the western coast—the Dark Army_ owns _it. We'd never make it to the Well of Souls!"_

 _"Well, what's_ your _great idea, then? How are we supposed to get there?"_

 _"We'll cross the Arid Lands and head for Earthsoul. We can travel westward from there—it'll be much safer travelling up north. After that, Whisperglade Forest should afford us some cover to head south again..."_

 _..._

 _"Meredy doesn't know you're coming with us, does she?"_

 _"She doesn't need to. Not yet. As long as we get her safely to Earthsoul, she'll be fine."_

 _"But..."_

 _"Don't, Char. I'll tell her when I'm ready. I know_ you _haven't told_ Lance _yet..."_

 _..._

Charla groaned and opened her eyes. The fiery blaze of the setting sun glared straight into her face, and she quickly shut them again. Lance's wing was hot and heavy on her back.

She couldn't sleep. Old conversations and arguments from a few days ago kept chasing their tails around her head, taunting her. Even now she kept thinking up things she could have said, rebuttals she should have come up with, arguments she hadn't spoken aloud... But there was nothing she could do to change anything now. She couldn't go back in time.

And in the end, she really hadn't had much of a choice, had she?

She still remembered vividly that morning in the foothills, when Lance had pulled her aside and told her his plans. She remembered the seriousness on his face when he'd said that Meredy and Nuala wouldn't make it through the desert on foot. Back then, Charla's first instinct—her first wonderful, hopeful idea—had been to take them with her to the Well of Souls. Both of them.

She knew Nuala already wanted to come; that night after what had happened in Pyreflight was still fresh in her mind. And she couldn't bear the thought of leaving Meredy to carry on alone, even if Nuala said she would be fine.

So surely it would be better for all of them to head south-west towards the Well. They'd be safer together. No one would be left alone. In Charla's head, it had seemed like the perfect plan.

Now, of course, she knew it was stupid.

 _"They won't come with us. Whether we help them or not, they're going to keep heading towards Mistral. Not everyone is going to follow you, kid. You can't force them to."_

Lance was right, of course. Even if she hadn't wanted want to hear it, Charla knew he was right. There was no reason for Meredy to go with them—and even Nuala wouldn't come if it meant abandoning Meredy to face the Arid Lands alone. She had been very clear about that. If Nuala was to come with them, they first had to get Meredy safely to Earthsoul.

But there was no way any of them were getting through the desert on foot. And only Lance was strong enough to carry Meredy in flight. Unless Charla wanted to carry on alone, she had to go with them.

In the end, it wasn't even a choice.

And now here she was, getting further from the Well of Souls every day, and every day worrying about Jayce and Silverback and how long they could wait for her. At least, she hoped, they weren't far from Earthsoul now.

Blinking sand from her eyelashes, Charla raised her head. Earlier that day, everyone had huddled together to sleep at the base of a dune, trying to find shelter in shadows that had long since moved on. Lance lay in the middle, his huge white wings spread out to shade both Charla and Meredy, who had curled her long body protectively around Nuala. It looked like they were all still sleeping.

Charla wished she was, too. They wouldn't move on for a while yet—not until the sun had gone down and the heat was gone from the air. But sleeping during the day was hard. The sun blazed on her scales as if to melt her, and its light glared blindingly off the white-gold sands. She hadn't slept well for days, and exhaustion was clutching at her with heavy hands.

But they had to travel at night. Without food or water to sustain them, they needed to conserve energy—and exerting themselves in the heat of the day was, as Lance had said, a bad idea.

Charla sighed and shuffled around in the sand, trying to find a more comfortable position—but it was hopeless. Instead she lay there and gazed at Meredy and Nuala. They looked enviably peaceful.

Yet again, she wondered if Nuala had told Meredy yet. But Charla was almost certain that, still, Meredy had no idea of her plans. She had no idea that, from Earthsoul, her journey to Mistral would be taken alone. She had no idea that Charla was taking Nuala away.

Warm though the sand was, Charla shivered. It was impossible to imagine Meredy getting mad. She was so sweet and kind and gentle, and surely she would understand when Nuala explained it. Surely she wouldn't blame _Charla_ for Nuala's decision. Surely she wouldn't be angry with them. But still Charla worried.

If only Nuala would just tell her and get it over with.

But Charla grabbed that thought and shoved it to the back of her mind—because it reminded her that _she_ still hadn't told Lance yet, either.

She dreaded just the thought of it. Lance was no great fan of Nuala. If he knew that she would be coming with them all the way to the Well of Souls... Well, Charla didn't want to imagine his reaction. She didn't think she could bear making Lance angry again.

But now the thought was rooted in her head, and that wasn't going to help her get back to sleep.

So Charla scowled, huffed, and—very carefully, so as not to wake him—wriggled out from under Lance's wing. The setting sun glared down at her, like she was doing something wrong. But everyone was still asleep, so Charla stumbled off into the sandy valley, looking for _something_ interesting that might pass the time.

There was very little life in the desert. At times, Charla had spotted scraggly little shrubs in the sand, or patches of wispy brown grass that looked like it had already died. But the skies were clear and inviting, and it was for this reason that Charla spread her wings and took flight. Sand billowed in her wake, lashing at her legs and tail, but then she was free and away above the golden dunes.

The Arid Lands spread out before her.

The dunes went on forever, rising and falling into the far-reaching distance, until they met the horizon and faded like mist into the sky. The gilded sand was as smooth and still as the surface of a glassy lake, unbroken but for gentle rippling patterns that had been left by the wind. It was silent, endless—the middle of nowhere like Charla had never seen it before. Up here, far above it all, she could almost imagine that she was the only living creature in the whole world.

She twirled in the air, catching the warm breeze under her wings. Above her, the blues of the sky were darkening, but the dying sun bled red and gold fire across the horizon. Charla rose higher and higher, so that she could see far across the desert—so that she could see the great distance between her and the craggy peaks of Earthrise Range.

There was still a long way to go. And from there, an even longer journey began. All the way back to the south-east coast. All the way back to the Well of Souls. Charla's wings trembled at the thought.

She was facing weeks—maybe even _months_ —of travel. And at the end of it... She didn't know. It seemed impossible that there could be an end at all; that she would ever reach that place that she had sought to find for so long. Two months, she had realised a few days ago—two months had passed already, since she had lost Jayce.

And she was further from the Well of Souls than she had ever been.

With a shiver and a shake of her limbs, Charla descended back to earth. She alighted softly, stumbling a little, at the rounded peak of a dune overlooking her friends. They slumbered peacefully below her, and she sat alone for what seemed like hours—just waiting for the sun to set and the world to darken.

The pale moons, already visible in the sky, began to brighten. The sunlight began to fade. And as the first stars came out, Charla wondered what Jayce was seeing now. She hoped he could at least see the sky. She hoped he wasn't trapped in the darkness, imprisoned and alone, and worrying about her. She liked to think he was looking at the moons now, just like she was.

And then something moved upon the dunes, and Charla's chain of thought shattered. She jerked her head up.

There on the pale sands, close enough for her to see their pointed ears and slender muzzles, was a pack of a jackals. Like a stain of ink they loped along the rise-and-fall of the dunes, their forms rippling and flickering strangely. They moved like liquid smoke, like they didn't even need to touch the ground, and tendrils of inky blackness twisted in their wake. Their shadows were alive.

Charla watched, mesmerised. They seemed so otherworldly—like spirits given form, or darkness given life. And though Meredy's words echoed in her head, she couldn't bring herself to feel afraid.

She wanted to get closer. She wanted to see them properly. She wanted to know if they were real and solid—if she could touch them or if they would feel like smoke between her paws.

But she didn't move. She just watched—and as she did, one of the jackals broke off from the pack. It paused, tremulously, on the peak of the dune opposite her, with one paw lifted as though in thought. Then it turned its head and, before Charla could blink, looked straight at her.

The breath caught in her throat. Its eyes were like stars. All silvery and bright with magic, they stared across the chasm between it and her—and Charla felt, for one brief, trembling moment, that it saw straight into her soul.

Then a voice yelled her name and she almost fell off the dune.

"Charla!" Lance called, his voice cutting like grating stone through the silence. "What are you doing up there? Let's go!"

Charla staggered in the shifting sands, just barely managed to avoid tumbling head-over-tail to the bottom of the dune, and yelled back, "Uh—coming!"

Then she whipped her head up and looked back at the jackal. But it was no longer there. The peak of the dune where it had stood was now empty, and she couldn't even see any paw-prints, or any wisps of shadowy magic, to suggest that it had been there at all. Maybe, she realised with a sudden shiver, it _hadn't_ been there.

But her friends definitely were. And by the looks of it, they were getting ready to fly again. Nuala was already gliding up towards her.

"Earth to Charla!" she called as she approached. "What's going on? Are you looking for something?"

Charla hesitated. She looked one more time across the valley of sand, towards the spot where she had seen the jackal and the jackal had seen her, but there was no sign of it. Not anymore. Not even a shadow.

"No," she said quietly. "Nothing."

* * *

It was late at night when Lance called for a rest. Earthrise Range loomed dark and jagged in the distance, as though to coax them away from the silver sands of the desert. But as much as Charla yearned to follow its pull, she let Lance guide her back to earth.

As they alighted on the shallow slope of a dune, Charla eyed him with worry. There was exhaustion and pain in the way he carried his wings, and in the way he slumped to his haunches after Meredy had slid off his back. She stumbled over to him.

"Are you okay?" she asked, leering at his loosely folded wings and his tired eyes.

"I'm surviving," Lance grunted, rolling his shoulders. When Charla just narrowed her eyes at him, he sighed. "I'll be fine, kid. I can manage. It's just a bit of extra weight."

And he glanced quickly at Meredy, who was twisting her paws in the sand nearby and seemed to be deliberately avoiding his gaze.

"I've got to manage," he said under his breath. "No one else can carry her, can they? Unless you want to try."

A sudden image came to mind, of Meredy's long serpentine body draped haphazardly across Charla's back. Despite herself, she grinned. Lance smirked and moved his wing as though to jostle her teasingly, but halted with a flinch. The smile slid from Charla's face.

"Maybe we should walk for a while," she said, but Lance shook his head.

"You know what walking in sand is like—one step forward, two steps back. We'd hardly get anywhere. And the sooner we get out of here, the better. I don't know about you, but I'm running out of energy. We need food and we need water—and we need it soon."

He eyed her grimly, and Charla's stomach gurgled at the reminder. She grimaced. For the last few days she'd been valiantly ignoring it—trying to pretend that she didn't feel that increasing hollow in her gut or the sandy dryness of her throat. She was no stranger to being without food, but the longer she spent without it, the harder it was to get up in the morning—the harder it was to keep going. She was tired.

And when she looked at her friends—at Meredy's limp fur and the dullness of her scales; at Nuala's ruffled feathers and the shadows under her eyes—she knew they were, too. They needed to get out of the desert.

Lance had been right; they never would have made it on foot.

"Let's just rest for a while, kid," said Lance, nudging her gently with a paw. "We'll keep going in half an hour or so."

"Alright..."

For a moment, Charla sat and watched her friends get comfy in the sand. She considered joining Meredy and Nuala to continue their train of ghost stories, but decided against it. She was too anxious tonight, too restless to move on. All she wanted was to keep going.

Instead she turned to Lance, who had slumped in the sand and looked like he might already be asleep. "I'm gonna go to the top of the dune. Just to look around."

He cracked an eye open. "Don't go any further than that."

"I know."

Rolling her eyes, Charla started a slow staggering walk up the slope of the dune. The sand shifted unhelpfully under her paws. Every time she took a step, she slipped back a little. Annoyed, she spread her wings and half-leapt, half-flew the rest of the way to the top. There, Charla sat and folded her wings.

She could see far from here—over the desert and the silvery sands, over a world untouched by life. The rugged peaks of Earthrise Range dominated the horizon.

For a long time she just stared at the mountains, wishing they were closer, wishing she was there. The moons hovered lazily above them, as if to taunt her that they were there and she was not. It was so unfair.

She wished they'd never come this way. She wished she was gazing at the Well of Souls instead—not at a stupid bunch of mountains on the wrong side of the Dragon Realms.

There was such a long way to go. Such a terribly, impossibly long way...

She was so tired.

Her eyelids grew heavy. The world around her seemed to fade; the moons grew blurred and misty in the sky. The stars were so bright.

And then, abruptly, Charla felt something. A presence hovered at her shoulder—a presence that had not been there before. There was someone beside her.

Lance...?

Lazily, her eyes heavy with sleep, she turned her head.

The starry eyes of a jackal gazed back at her, glistening with silver light. It was so close she could have reached out and touched it, but her paws were suddenly leaden and she could hardly move them. Instead she just stared, feeling strange and calm and light-headed, as though a voice in the back of her mind was telling her that everything was fine. She wasn't afraid.

The jackal stepped forward. Its inky fur rippled strangely, like it was formed of thick black smoke. The longer Charla stared, the more she felt like she could see straight through it—like she could see the silver dunes on the other side of its wispy, shadowy form. She raised a leaden paw. Maybe...she could touch it...

But the jackal turned and bounded away, leaving wisps of shadow in the space where it had been. Charla turned her head to follow it. She wanted to go too. But her body was so heavy—so heavy...

The jackal paused and looked back, balanced lightly at the peak of a dune, the stars shining through its smoky fur. It flicked its tail, and Charla stared longingly. The message was clear, even without words. It wanted her to follow.

Slowly, Charla stood up. The heaviness of her body seemed to drain away, like water seeping into the sand. As she rose, a sense of weightlessness swept over her, as though a gentle breeze had come to lift her into the sky.

Nothing else seemed to matter. Her friends were not there. The desert was not there. Only the jackal was there, and she had to follow.

She leapt forward. The silver sands passed undisturbed beneath her paws.

Charla ran without touching the ground, her wings spread, feeling warm and light and free, like she could run forever. The jackal waited for her and then it ran beside her, loping with a ghostly grace, leading her forwards. And then, suddenly, there were more of them—more jackals—their black fur as fine and dark and wispy as smoke, surrounding her, guiding her.

Charla ran in their midst, leaving her weight and her exhaustion behind, and soon her eyes lifted to see the way forward.

A great summit rose on the horizon. The craggy peaks of Earthrise Range no longer, it was now a single enormous mountain whose jagged crown split in two like the jaws of a colossal stone dragon, reaching up to devour the sky. Streams of acid green flowed like tears down its dark slopes.

Oh, how she yearned to be there.

Charla ran like the wind—faster and faster still—and the jackals were beside her, still guiding her onwards. The Well of Souls loomed before them, filling the sky, engulfing her sight.

And then, all of a sudden, she saw the moons above it were moving strangely. They were drawing towards one another, as though to embrace—as though to become one. The mountain trembled beneath them. And, before Charla's eyes, they collided. The great red moon engulfed its green twin, and for a split second she saw them as one single celestial body before they were plunged into a deep and sudden darkness.

A plume of violet fire erupted from the apex of the mountain.

Charla's eyes snapped open.

The world was a dark blur. She lay crumpled in the sand, her heart drumming a furious rhythm against her ribcage, her head muddled with sleep. Feeling like her legs were made of stone, she scrambled to her feet and whirled around.

Sand slipped away beneath her paws. For a split second, she teetered at the crest of the dune's sheer slope, her wings fluttering unevenly—but she steadied herself just in time. Breathing shakily, she sat back in the sand and rubbed at her eyes. They were painfully dry.

Her heart was still hammering madly in her chest. She hadn't expected to fall asleep.

Down below, Lance and the others were still resting at the foot of the dune, and it was the sight of them that brought calm and clarity back to Charla's muddled mind. She mustn't have been asleep for long. She inhaled deeply—once, twice—and then turned around.

Everything was as it should be. Earthrise Range sat calm and unassuming in the distance. The moons hung apart in the dark night sky, no longer embracing, no longer as one. And the jackals were nowhere to be seen—not a glimpse, not even a shadow on the silver desert sands. Nothing had changed. The Well of Souls was still far, far away from her, as Charla knew it to be.

She exhaled a long, slow sigh. What a strange dream...

What had even happened there, at the Well of Souls?

She had never seen anything like it, and she couldn't understand it. Why the moons had eclipsed, why that light had burst from the crown of the Well, why the jackals had led her there...

The jackals. She had dreamed about jackals. Abruptly, a shiver raced down Charla's spine. She sat up straighter and her eyes darted across the moonlit dunes, from horizon to horizon, certain suddenly that she would see them—those dark and shadowy forms. But, as before, she saw nothing. The desert was quiet and still. There were no jackals.

But she had seen them in her dreams. She had seen them so clearly she had felt she could reach out and touch them. She remembered their starry eyes and their translucent shadowy fur. They had seemed so _real_ —so otherworldly, but so real.

What did that mean?

Had they really come—as Meredy had said they did—to guide her?

Charla ran her tongue nervously over her fangs. Her paws were shaking in the sand and she didn't know why.

It was just a dream, she told herself. It didn't have to mean anything. She'd just fallen asleep and dreamed of things that had been on her mind, like the jackals and the Well of Souls.

But sitting there alone in the dark, waiting to move on again, she couldn't stop her thoughts from wandering. She wondered about the jackals and the strange lunar eclipse. She wondered about the plume of violent purple magic that had erupted from the mountain's jaws. And, in spite of herself, she wondered if it could be more than just a dream—if maybe, somehow, that was what awaited her when she finally returned to the Well of Souls.


	2. A Serpent's Uncertainties

**Chapter 2**

 **A Serpent's Uncertainties**

"What's going to happen when we get to Earthsoul?"

It was a question that had been on the tip of Charla's tongue for days. Normally it was the sort of question she would have asked Lance, but he wouldn't have the answers this time. He didn't know the plan—even if he thought he did. Only she and Nuala knew that.

"What do you mean?" Nuala asked, with a sidelong glance at Charla.

They were soaring close together, the tips of their wings almost touching, and Nuala's white fur looked ghostly in the darkness. Some distance behind them, Lance and Meredy were following at a sluggish pace—too far for them to overhear what was being said. Nevertheless, Charla kept her voice to a murmur.

"I mean...what are we going to do?" She rubbed her forepaws together and stared unseeing into the night-time sky. "Are we just going to—to say goodbye to Meredy and leave? I still haven't told Lance yet, and... You haven't..."

She trailed off.

"No," Nuala said quietly, "I haven't told her yet. I figured I'll...you know—wing it. When we get there. I'll tell her, you'll tell Lance, and we'll grab some supplies and be off. It shouldn't be much harder than that."

Charla rolled her tongue nervously, but didn't voice her thoughts. That was easier said than done. It sounded simple, but... If it was that easy, wouldn't they have done it by now? Wouldn't Lance and Meredy already know?

She exhaled silently and gazed at the horizon. Earthrise Range was close now, dominating the northern horizon like an enormous jagged wall between her and the northward lands. It dwarfed them in its shadow and sometimes the moons hid behind its peaks, leaving them in darkness with only stars to guide their way. Earthsoul lay unseen at its base, but Charla knew it wouldn't be long now. Already she could see the desert changing—see the hints of life, of grass and shrubs that had not been there before, that were beginning to spring from the sands. In the distant shadow of the mountains, she even thought she saw trees.

It was a relief. Only a day had passed since she'd had that strange dream, and already this first leg of the journey was almost over. From here on, she would be getting closer to the Well of Souls—not further from it. Maybe then she'd start to feel a little better about the whole thing.

She hadn't told anyone about the dream. Lance would probably scoff at her, and Nuala and Meredy might think she was losing her nerve—having nightmares about jackals...

Besides, Charla told herself, it was only a dream. It didn't mean anything, and it was better just to forget about it.

"Do you think the dragons at Earthsoul will be friendly?" she asked, just to pull herself away from those thoughts.

Nuala huffed softly. "Maybe. As long as they're not like the ones at Warfang."

Charla grimaced. She'd told Nuala all about what had happened in Warfang—the guards patrolling the street, the orphanage and Madame Orinthe, and her daring night-time escape through the library's cavernous archives. It seemed to have reinforced Nuala's ideas that dragons were too stubborn and controlling for their own good.

 _'That's the problem with most dragons,'_ she'd said. _'They want everything their way or not at all.'_

Charla wasn't sure whether she agreed or not.

"Lance says they're more laid-back than the dragons at Warfang," she reminded Nuala. "He says they don't even have a wall around the city."

"I guess they can afford not to, since they're so far north." She scoffed. "What ape's dumb enough to try to walk through the Arid Lands? They'd starve before they got there."

Charla grinned half-heartedly and looked over her shoulder. Lance was still flying doggedly in their wake and Meredy seemed pale and small on his back, her dainty paws clasped around his neck. It wouldn't be long before he'd call for a break. Charla wished they could just keep flying. They were so close now. Already her head was filling with thoughts of food and rest, of bustling streets full of friendly dragons, and a softer place to rest her tired body.

But then her stomach clenched and, with a guilty glance at Nuala, she remembered what had to happen there. The words that had to be said. The friend that had to be left behind.

Maybe, she thought, Earthsoul could wait a little longer.

* * *

Some hours later, when dawn broke and spread pale gold fingers across the sky, Charla saw a strange shimmer in the distance—like the sun shining off more than just sand. Her first instinct was to ask Nuala, who was flying next to her again, if she could see it too.

"See what?" Nuala asked, squinting at the horizon.

"That shimmer," Charla said, pointing with a paw. "Right there. See?"

"Huh," said Nuala. "Yeah, I see it. I wonder if it's– Hang on, let's go higher."

With a beat of her feathered wings, she shot further into the sky, and Charla shied away from the gust of wind kicked up in her wake. Twisting in the air, Charla shot after her. Together they rose, higher and higher, and the spread of dawn's light seemed to follow them up into the sky. The desert stretched out below them, so that the higher they went the further they could see, and Charla's eyes sought out the shimmering line in the distance.

It snaked in from the east, sliding through patches of greenish-yellow, and then twisted northward towards the mountains and the line of trees in their shadow. Charla's paws began to tingle. This was it. They had made it to the edge of the desert.

"I think we've found ourselves a river," said Nuala, and Charla heard the grin in her voice even before their eyes met.

At once, Charla spun around.

"Lance!" she cried, and she dived towards where he and Meredy flew low in the sky behind her. "Lance, there's a river! We found a river!"

He lifted his head and Charla, realising she was on course to plough right into him, flared her wings and pulled herself back. Her heart was racing in her chest. Suddenly, despite her exhaustion, despite her hunger, she felt more awake and alive than she had for days.

"You found a what?" Lance called up to her. His wings shook almost imperceptibly with each flap, even despite the rest they'd had only a few hours before.

"A river! Right over there!"

Lance's eyes brightened almost instantly, and Meredy lifted her head with sudden hope on her tired face.

"Finally," Lance grunted, his eyes raking the horizon. "It must be the Aspen River. We're almost there! Lead the way, kid. We can rest when we get to the river."

Charla whooped, rolled in the air, and shot off back the way she'd come. In seconds she'd caught up with Nuala, who gave her a questioning look as she hovered in the air.

"Let's go!" Charla cried, darting past her so that her pale fur ruffled in the wind.

Nuala twisted around to follow her, flared her feathered wings. "We're gonna keep going?"

"Lance said we can rest at the river!" she called over her shoulder, grinning.

Nuala's sharp face split into a toothy grin, and without another word she shot after Charla, swooping past her so close that Charla felt feathers on her cheek. Laughing, her wings light and her mind clear, Charla raced her across the sky, towards the mountains and the trees and the river, and didn't look back.

They flew for what seemed like hours.

Long after the race had ended and Charla's burst of energy had faded, they were still flying. The river was still beyond them, glistening tauntingly in the light of a sun now fully risen in the sky. It was not nearly as close as Charla had thought. Her wings ached and her eyelids were like heavy stones, but she pushed on, driven by the thought of cool water and the promise of no longer sleeping in sand.

Nuala soared beside her, her eyes tired and her wings sagging—but Lance and Meredy were well back. Several times, Charla had glanced over her shoulder and seen them so far behind that she'd called for Nuala to stop and wait. Every time this happened, they flew in small circles until Lance caught up.

He was struggling. They all were.

But every time Charla thought about giving up and descending to sleep in the sand, she looked up and saw the river a little closer than before—and changed her mind. On and on she flew, her wings aching, the sun blazing like fire on her back.

And then, suddenly, the land below her changed. The great sweeping dunes fell away behind her. Straggly brownish grasses pushed through the sand. Gnarled shrubs and spiky bushes twisted up from the earth, spreading green across a yellowed land. And the river was there—right there—so close that she could hear it flowing, and smell that it was fresh and clean and cool.

One more rush of energy pulsed through her. Charla beat her wings and shot forward, and with a cry of triumph she dived for the river. Her paws skimmed the surface—it was freezing, but she didn't care. She flared her wings back, thrust her hind legs forward, and skidded into its cool embrace.

Water exploded around her. It engulfed her, drenched her, chased the heat from her scales—her head went under and she shut her eyes. Darkness and silence surrounded her, cool and gentle.

Then, with a kick and a flap, Charla broke through the surface. Gasping for air, she twisted around, spreading her wings atop the slow-flowing water. She was in the middle of the river, surrounded by green, and Nuala was flying down towards her with relief on her face. Charla grinned.

Then she dipped her head and drank.

By the time Lance and Meredy caught up, Charla and Nuala were both paddling in the shallows. Charla turned in lazy circles, enjoying the way the water slid over her scales, all smooth and calming. Nuala just sat there with the water up to her shoulders, her fur drenched and limp, her eyes closed. She looked more in bliss than Charla had ever seen her.

Lance said nothing when he landed. He waited long enough for Meredy to slide off his back, and then stumbled into the river and dunked his head under the surface. Meredy followed more slowly, dipping her paws into the shallows and lowering her head to drink. As Lance all but collapsed in the water, his chest heaving, Charla paddled over to him.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

He turned to her, his nostrils flaring with heavy breaths, and smiled. "All good, kid... All good. Just...gotta rest a bit..."

Charla grinned and sat up, letting the water roll off her back and shoulders. It felt wonderful. "We made it. Out of the desert, I mean. I guess Earthsoul is still a while away..."

Lance shook his head and didn't respond for a moment. But as his breaths eased, he looked at her and said, "We can worry about Earthsoul later. Let's just get some rest."

She nodded, letting her tired wings hang loosely so that they were cradled by the water's cool surface. All of her energy had disappeared—like it had seeped into the river and flowed away just like the heat on her scales. Her eyes suddenly felt like they couldn't stay open. She had been awake for too long.

Beside her, Lance pulled himself shakily out of the water and Charla followed without a word. Together, they stumbled up onto the bank, onto sandy but solid ground, and curled up in the shade of clustering shrubs.

Through hazy eyes, Charla watched Meredy and Nuala still relaxing in the shallows of the river—but then her eyelids slid shut, and the darkness soon carried her away.

* * *

Charla stirred. The sun was hot on the top of her head, and there was warmth where Lance's flank pressed against hers. For a while she lay there, the darkness behind her eyelids tinged with red, hovering somewhere between dreams and the waking world. Then the tendrils of sleep pulled smoke-like away from her, and she raised her head.

Late afternoon sunlight glinted on the surface of the river and threw warm colours upon its banks. Beside Charla, Lance was still fast asleep; his face was at peace, his breaths steady and even. Nuala was just the same—she lay nearby, her face buried in her wings and her bushy tail curled around her. But Meredy...

Charla turned her head. Meredy was already awake. She was sitting by the river, her back to Charla and the others, and seemed to be staring motionless into its waters. It didn't seem like she'd noticed Charla had woken up.

At first, Charla just watched her. Sleep still addled her mind, and she found herself wondering how long Meredy had been awake. What was she doing? Maybe she was deep in thought—about what, Charla didn't know. But then her head cleared, and an uneasy thought stole in.

Maybe Nuala had finally told her. While Charla and Lance had slept, maybe she had finally broken her silence. Maybe Meredy knew, now, that she would soon be carrying on alone.

Charla swallowed, blinked a few times, and stood up. Her wing brushed Lance involuntarily, but he didn't stir. For a few seconds she just stood there, her paws feeling heavy and clumsy, and tried to will herself to walk over to Meredy—but her legs didn't seem to want to move. She wished someone else was awake too. She didn't know that she wanted to talk to Meredy alone.

And wouldn't it be strange? Charla hadn't talked to Meredy alone for days. Not since... She frowned and thought back. Had they really not spoken together, just the two of them, since those lonely days on the Great Eastern River—before everything that had happened in Pyreflight? That seemed so long ago.

Charla's insides squirmed with guilt. It wasn't like she'd been avoiding Meredy—she was just so hard to talk to! It was so much easier with Nuala and Lance... And it wasn't like Meredy ever made the effort to talk to _her_.

She shook herself, tightened her jaw, and stepped forward; the gritty earth crunched under her paws. At once, Meredy's ears twitched and she turned her head, her eyes wide. Charla grinned a little weakly.

"What's up?" she asked as she approached.

Meredy's eyes flicked over her, and for a split second Charla thought she saw something in them—a flicker of annoyance, a glint of bitterness—before Meredy turned her face away. Unease settled in the pit of her stomach. Still, stubbornly, Charla sat down beside her on the riverbank.

"Can't sleep?" she asked, when Meredy had still failed to say anything.

"No, I'm fine," Meredy said quickly, with a strange quiver in her voice. "I slept enough." There was a pause. "...What about you?"

Charla shrugged. "I'm not tired anymore."

And then there was silence. Meredy stared impassively at her own reflection rippling in the water's surface, and Charla shuffled her paws and tried to inconspicuously inspect her. She didn't seem upset—just quiet and distant, which wasn't unusual—and Charla wondered if she'd imagined that fleeting bitterness in her eyes. Maybe, in her worry, she'd just seen what she expected to see.

She let her shoulders relax a little. This was _Meredy_. It wasn't like she was about to start yelling and screaming, even if she was upset. But still... _did_ she know? _Had_ Nuala told her? Charla had no idea.

"So..." she said, for nothing else than to break the quiet. "We should get to Earthsoul soon! And then it's—it's not far to Mistral, is it?"

Meredy's ear flicked, but she didn't look up. "No. Not far. Nuala said the same thing. She says we'll just have to climb the foothills of Earthrise Range, and then cross the northern plains. A week or two on foot, perhaps..."

She trailed off, still gazing at her reflection, and Charla held her breath. Surely, this was it. If Meredy knew, she would say something now. But for a long time she said nothing, like she too was waiting for something—and Charla realised she should probably say something too. Just as she opened her mouth, however, Meredy spoke again.

"I'm a little nervous," she said, and now her peach-coloured eyes slid over to meet Charla's—and there was something vivid and intense in her gaze. "I've never travelled this far before. I don't really know where to go. And I think... Nuala has been acting a little strange lately."

Charla's heart skipped a bit. "What sort of strange?"

Meredy's gaze held her intently for one more moment, like she was trying to figure out something just by staring into Charla's eyes. But then she looked away and her ears folded down. "I don't know... Maybe I'm imagining it. I just feel like...there's something she wants to say to me. But she won't say it. It's strange..."

"Oh." Charla twisted her tail into a knot and swallowed nervously. "Have you talked to her about it? Maybe she's worried about...something..."

"I would hope," Meredy said with sudden sharpness, lifting her head, "that if Nuala had anything important to say to me, she would just say it—without me having to ask."

Charla curled her tail tighter and didn't say a word.

A second later, Meredy's shoulders sagged and her face fell a little. "But, I guess, if she needs a push..."

And she went quiet again, her half-lidded eyes gazing into the river. Charla could feel her heart pounding against her ribcage, but it eased slowly. She was fairly sure now that Meredy didn't know—that Nuala hadn't told her yet. But Meredy knew something was wrong; she knew Nuala was hiding something. And that, Charla thought with a shiver, was probably worse.

When she did find out... When she knew for sure that Charla and Nuala had been keeping something from her... What would she do?

"You've got a long way to go yet, don't you?" Meredy said suddenly, and Charla jumped. She was looking at her again. "All the way back to the southern coast?"

"Southwest," Charla corrected automatically and struggled to pull her head out of her thoughts. "It's, um..."

"That's a long way," Meredy said. "It'll be dangerous... Just you and Lance. You'll have to be very careful."

Charla gave a weak grin. "We'll be fine. We got all the way here, after all, and the Dark Army hasn't gotten us yet!"

But Meredy didn't smile. She just looked away again and murmured, "I suppose we should move on soon. When the others are rested enough. Are you sure you don't need to sleep more?"

"Are _you_ sure? You were up before me. How long—?"

"I was not very tired," Meredy said quickly, and Charla saw her paws clench. "I'm not nearly as exhausted as the rest of you. After all, I didn't do anything, did I? You all flew for days and I just sat there and did nothing but weigh Lance down. Exhausting work, I'm sure."

She sounded so bitter all of a sudden that Charla drew back and stared at her in amazement. This _was_ Meredy, wasn't it? It didn't sound like her at all.

Then her face softened, her eyes closed, and Meredy murmured, "I'm sorry. I just feel...frustrated. I don't want to be—"

But whatever Meredy didn't want to be, Charla didn't find out. At that moment, Nuala's voice broke through the still air, and both of them jumped.

"Good morning, ladies!" she called, fluttering down to rest between them, her fur ruffling in the breeze. "Fancy seeing you here. Up for a morning chinwag, are we?"

Charla just stared gormlessly at her, stunned into silence by her sudden appearance—and for a moment, Meredy looked too startled to speak as well. But then Meredy's face softened into a sort of fond exasperation.

"It's afternoon, Nu," she said, shaking her head.

Nuala waved a dismissive paw. "Close enough. It's morning for us, since we just woke up and all. Are we all rested and ready to go?"

" _We_ are," Charla said, and then glanced towards Lance's slumped form. "But I don't think he is."

Nuala followed her gaze. "Damn. Well, he'll probably be up soon. What were you two chatting about?"

At once, alarm bells started to go off in Charla's head—there was something accusatory about Nuala's eyes, and she wasn't entirely sure why. She shot Meredy a nervous look. "Just stuff..."

"This and that," Meredy agreed in a small voice, but she gazed at Nuala with equal intensity. "About the road ahead, I suppose you could say."

"To Earthsoul?" Nuala asked casually, but Charla knew she was digging. What did she think they'd talked about? She didn't think...

"And where we'll go from there," said Meredy, who then paused for a charged second and added, "We've still got a bit of a journey to Mistral, don't we, Nu?"

Charla held her breath. One of Nuala's ears flicked, as though to chase off a bothersome insect—but she made no further reaction.

"A bit," she agreed, apparently unfazed. "It's not really that far. Easy travel, you know? It'll be fine."

A brief silence fell over them, and Meredy looked away. With her eyes no longer on them, Nuala took the chance to shoot Charla a fierce questioning look—but Charla could only shrug. She was just wracking her brains for something to say to break the tension, when Meredy stood up.

"I'm going to have a quick wash," she said quietly, without looking at either of them. "Before we move on."

Without waiting for a response, Meredy stepped into the shallows and submerged herself in the water, winding snakelike into the centre of the river. Charla watched her swim further upstream, away from them, feeling all sorts of confused and uncertain. Then Nuala hissed at her.

"What did you say to her? You didn't _tell_ her, did you?"

Charla drew back, startled. "What– Of course not! She was acting weird when I woke up—I thought you'd told her!"

Nuala's eyes hardened. "I haven't. I _hope_ you didn't let it slip—"

"I didn't!" Charla insisted, and a defensive fire flared in her stomach. "It's not my job to tell her! But she suspects something—she _knows_ there's something you need to say to her but you won't spit it out! She said so!"

Nuala's eyes widened, briefly, and then she frowned and turned away. Charla followed her gaze, and they both watched Meredy's graceful swim along the river, her white fur flowing just under the surface of the water. She looked almost like a sea serpent, like she belonged in the water. Was that what she would look like in the air, if only she could fly? Charla couldn't help but wonder.

"She suspects, huh..." Nuala murmured. "I shouldn't be surprised. She's...perceptive like that. Always knows when something's wrong."

Her wings seemed to sag, and Charla eyed her anxiously. "Why don't you just tell her?"

But Nuala shook her head. "I can't. I'm not– I just... I need a little more time. I'll tell her when I'm ready. When we get to Earthsoul..."

As she trailed off, her sad eyes fixed on Meredy, Charla realised something for the first time—and wondered how she could have been so stupid. Nuala wasn't _just_ worried about upsetting Meredy. It was more than that.

"You don't want to leave her, do you?" Charla murmured. Nuala stiffened but said nothing, and Charla knew she was right. "She's your friend. You'd really like to stay with her... Right?"

Nuala's tail swished. "I can't stay with her forever. We want different things. It's just...hard..."

"Are you sure you want to come with us?" Charla's stomach clenched at her own words, but it had to be said. "You don't _have_ —"

"Of course I do!" Nuala snapped, whirling on her now, her eyes suddenly alight with conviction. "I told you what I'm prepared to do, and I meant it. Don't question my nerve."

Charla shrank back. "I just thought—"

"And don't you chicken out on me, either." Nuala scowled and jabbed Charla in the chest with her sharp blue claws. "We've made a deal, and that's that. When we get to Earthsoul, you are going to tell Lance and I am going to tell Meredy, and neither of us is backing out of it. Okay?"

Her eyes were so intense, so full of fire, Charla wondered how she wasn't already melting under that gaze. She gulped, but nodded. "...Okay."

Nuala huffed and drew her paw back—and just like that, the fire faded from her eyes. She glanced back at Meredy one more time, and her wings quivered.

"I'm going for a quick fly," she said to Charla, a little stiffly. "See where to go next. Wake up the big guy while I'm gone, won't you?"

And without waiting for Charla to respond, Nuala brushed her shoulder with the tips of her feathers and launched into the sky. Charla craned her head and watched her go, watched her rise on the wind until she was just a white speck in the sky. Then she darted away, and Charla was left alone again with only the quietly flowing river for company. Sighing, she slumped on her haunches and gazed up at the dark mountains of Earthrise Range, whose shadows lengthened across the flat and sandy land.

This was all such a mess. Why did it have to be like this? Why couldn't she just take everyone with her?

Maybe it would have been easier if Nuala had never decided she wanted to come. If they could just split up at Earthsoul like they had on Sunback Ridge so long ago, when she and Lance had gone alone to Warfang. It would mean saying goodbye to Nuala and Meredy for good, but...

Charla sighed. It was too hard to think about. She didn't want to say goodbye to anyone. But she had no choice. Whether Nuala came with her or not, there was a goodbye waiting at Earthsoul. She couldn't escape that.

Snorting smoke from her nostrils, Charla stood up and turned back to the only one she didn't have to worry about. Lance was still asleep and looked in no rush to wake up. A fond warmth settled in Charla's chest as she padded over to him. Lance would never leave her. Lance would stay with her and follow her, no matter what. As long as he was beside her, she wouldn't have to worry about being alone. She didn't have to worry about saying goodbye to _him_.

He was the only one she could rely on. Even if he did like to boss her around a little too much.

Charla sat down at his side and gazed at him. His deep-green hide was marked with the remnants of old wounds—some she'd witnessed, and most she hadn't. Across his face was the most startling of all: A great ropey scar that cut from forehead to opposite jaw, just barely missing his left eye. Once, his appearance had been fearsome to her—twice her size, covered in scars, chained up and starved but somehow still standing—but those days were long gone. Now, he just looked like Lance—like someone she could trust.

Where would she be now, without him? Probably still lost in that forest on the eastern shore, alone, grieving for Jayce...

Charla shook herself. Then she pressed her paws to Lance's shoulder and gave him a push. "Wakey, wakey, Nuala says it's time to get up."

Lance groaned and screwed his eyes shut tighter. Charla jostled him a bit more, until he shifted and draped a paw over his face.

"Why me?" he grunted, his voice thick with drowsiness. "Go away, kid, I'm still asleep."

"No you're not." She pulled his paw away from his face and he cracked an eye open. "See?"

"I see an annoying kid," he grumbled, and shut his eye again.

Charla gave him another push. "I'm not annoying. Come on, Lance, it's almost sunset. I wanna keep going. I wanna see Earthsoul."

"Alright, alright..." He sighed loudly through his nostrils and finally started to uncurl, stretching his limbs. As Charla stepped back, Lance rose to his feet and yawned, his enormous fangs flashing in the warm afternoon light. Then he inhaled slowly and looked down at her.

"Feeling better?" Charla asked, grinning.

"A little." He gave his wings another careful stretch and winced a little, but didn't complain. His eyes strayed towards the river. "Where are– Oh, there's Meredy. Where's the fox?"

Charla glanced over her shoulder and saw Meredy had paddled back towards them and was just now stepping up onto the riverbank. Her fur hung limp and heavy, full of water—until she shook herself and sent it all flying.

"Nuala went to look ahead," Charla said. "She should be back soon."

Lance just grunted in response. He was rolling his shoulders and wings slowly, and it didn't look comfortable. Charla eyed him a little anxiously.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, before she could get a word out. "Any better?"

"Yeah! Still hungry, but better." Her stomach gurgled, as though in agreement.

Lance gave her an amused look. "There'll be prey around these parts, for sure. We can probably catch some fish at Lake Crystellus... It shouldn't take us more than a few hours to walk there."

"We're walking now, are we?" asked Meredy, suddenly, and Charla jumped. She was so quiet Charla hadn't even heard her approach. Something about her voice sounded relieved—if a little disappointed.

Lance smiled ruefully and stopped rolling his shoulders. "I don't think I could fly right now if I wanted to."

Meredy averted her eyes. "I'm sorry—"

"Don't," Lance interrupted, not unkindly. "It's not your fault. Don't worry about it."

Meredy's pale cheeks coloured, but she didn't argue.

"So, we'll walk to this lake place?" Charla asked. "And then what? Is Earthsoul far?"

"Not too far," Lance said, shaking his head. "If we spend the night at the lake, I should be okay to fly the rest of the way to Earthsoul. Shouldn't take more than half a day. And we've gotta fix up our sleep schedules at some point—I don't know about you, but I don't fancy staying nocturnal."

Charla grinned and looked at Meredy—hoping to see a smile from her for once. But Meredy was just gazing anxiously at the mountains in the near distance, twisting her paws and flicking her tail.

"Nuala will be back soon," Charla said to her, thinking she might be worried, but Meredy just looked surprised.

"Oh. I know. I heard you tell Lance."

And she went back to frowning into the distance.

"Well, when she's back, we'll head out," Lance said, as he started towards the river.

Realising she hadn't had a drink or a wash since waking up, and anxious to get away from Meredy, Charla followed him. As she joined Lance in the shallows, he gave her a small grin.

"Just you wait until we get to Lake Crystellus. You've never seen anything like it, I can tell you now. You'll love it."

"What's so great about it?" she asked.

His eyes seemed to twinkle. "Just wait and see. There's a reason they named it that. Trust me, you've never seen so many spirit gems in one place before..."

* * *

 **A/N: I may or may not have been tempted to name this chapter 'Unserpenties.' I know you're disappointed.**

 **Gosh, I'm so happy everyone is glad to be reading again! The response to Balefire's first chapter was amazing and flattering. I really hope you all enjoy the story! It might be a bit slow to begin with, but things will pick up. Thanks so much for reviewing, favouriting, following, and especially for reading! I'll try to update once every two weeks, so stick around!**

 **See you next time. :D**


	3. No Gem's Land

**Chapter 3**

 **No Gem's Land**

There were no gems.

The banks of Lake Crystellus were bare and muddy. Between the twisted remains of small trees, the earth was churned and scarred as though a great claw had come down and gouged holes in the land. Under the gloom of night, it looked ghostly and foreboding.

"I don't understand..." Lance said as they approached, and he sounded unusually distressed. "There used to be fields of spirit gems here. What _happened_?"

Charla had no response. Her eyes raked the muddy earth, from one side of the lake to the other, but there was no telltale shimmer of crystal. There were only the moons, shining dully on the surface of the lake, rippling in the water. The air carried a biting, unfriendly chill. Disappointment settled like a heavy stone in her stomach. From what Lance had told her, she'd expected a shimmering forest of crystals—endless rows of glistening magic-charged gems that glowed even in the darkest of nights. This lonely, desolate place was not that at all.

"Apes have been here," Nuala said darkly.

Everyone looked up at her. She was hovering above their heads, her face shadowed in the darkness—but Charla didn't need to see her expression to know what it looked like. A shiver that had nothing to do with the cold crawled down the back of her neck.

"How?" Lance breathed, and his voice shook with a hint of anger. " _Why_? We're so far north—we're on the other side of the Arid Lands! They shouldn't have come this far! Why would they?"

Nuala shook her head. "They needed more gems, I guess. Who else could have done this? Who else digs up spirit gems by the roots?"

"They do have dreadwings," Meredy said quietly, and she shrank a little as everyone's eyes turned on her. "They must have flown here, to get the gems..."

"But this place is protected by the dragons of Earthsoul!" Lance exclaimed, stamping his paw. "It was sacred to them! How could they have just let apes do this? They would have fought back!"

He bit back a snarl, gritted his teeth, and whirled around. As he strode angrily towards the lake, Charla was startled to see him begin to spread his wings.

"Where are you going?" she yelped, scurrying after him.

When he looked over his shoulder, there was barely restrained anger in his eyes. "We need to keep going! If apes did this, they might have done something to Earthsoul, too. There could be damage—the citizens might be in danger! Come on."

But before he could so much as prepare to take flight—if he even could—Nuala had darted in front of him.

"Chill out, big guy," she said, holding her paws out as if that would stop him. "Look around. This wasn't done recently. For all we know, they could have dug those gems up months or even years ago. If they did do anything to Earthsoul when this happened... Well, it's already too late, isn't it?"

Lance's jaw clenched and he started to open his mouth, but he had no chance to respond.

"And you need to rest your wings," Meredy added as she came up behind him, her eyes anxious in the gloom. "You said yourself that you can't fly yet. If you do, you'll just hurt yourself..."

"They're right," Charla cut in quickly, because the look on Lance's face was scaring her. She had rarely seen him so worked up. "Let's just rest here, like you said we would. We can go to Earthsoul tomorrow. I'm sure it'll be fine. It's a big city just like Warfang, right? The apes can't have done much to it."

But even as she spoke, memories of Pyreflight floated to the front of her mind and Charla tried desperately not to think of that.

Lance hesitated. He looked at all of them, his eyes darting between their anxious faces and then towards the damaged earth at the edge of the lake. His wings sagged.

"You're right," he grunted. "I'd never make it to Earthsoul like this. And what help would we be, anyway? Let's just rest."

Without looking at any of them, he brushed past Nuala and plodded heavily towards the lake, his paws squelching in the mud. Charla shared a grim look with Nuala and Meredy before following.

The earth was damp and soft under her paws, and it rose and fell in shallow muddy trenches. As she passed by the stunted trunk of a dead tree, she saw something in the moonlight. Green shoots were peering up from the mud—tiny and frail, but alive. Something in her chest lifted.

She joined Lance close to the edge of the water. He was gazing across its rippling surface towards the other side, which was equally as bare and barren and void of crystals. As she looked into the water, Charla saw stars flickering in the reflection of the night sky.

"The trees are growing back," she said, looking up at Lance. "I saw shoots."

He glanced at her and then over his shoulder, surprise on his face. But then he sighed and dropped his gaze.

"Nuala's right, then," he murmured to the water. "This happened a while ago. It must have been like this for months... And I never knew."

"They're just..." Charla hesitated, wondering if it was the right thing to say. "I mean...they're only spirit gems. Maybe...more will grow?"

She didn't know if that was true. Nuala said that spirit gems didn't grow back after their roots were dug up—but then, she wasn't a dragon; she couldn't have known everything there was to know about spirit gems. They had to come from somewhere. They had to grow somehow. Charla just wished she knew how.

Lance sighed again. "Maybe. It's just... I thought for sure this place would be untouched. This place was sacred—magical. It's impossible to understand without seeing it, but if you could have...you'd understand. I just can't believe the apes did this much."

He raised his head and gazed towards the moons, his eyes shining in their light. "I'm worried for Earthsoul. The apes couldn't have taken this place without a fight. If they won... Something terrible must have happened to the city. To the dragons living there..."

Charla watched him nervously, not knowing what to say. The water lapped at her claws, cold as ice. At length, Lance shook his head.

"I'm such a fool," he whispered.

She stared up at him. "Lance?"

"I knew," he said suddenly, sharply, and she stepped back. "I knew that something had happened—that Earthsoul had been attacked. But...that was almost a year ago now. I didn't think... I didn't think it mattered."

He lowered his head and Charla stayed silent, watching him with anxious curiosity. This was the first she'd heard of this. Lance hadn't told her much about Earthsoul—she knew only that he had been there before, more than a year ago, and a few other little details that he'd deigned to tell her. But he'd never said anything about an attack.

Before she could say anything, Lance looked up again.

"I should have told you," he said heavily. "I should have said something. If we get there and find out there's not even a city anymore... I'm such an idiot."

"It wasn't that bad, was it?" Charla clenched her paws in the mud, her stomach twisting. "The apes can't have destroyed the _whole_ city. ...Right?"

"I don't know. It's...possible. Earthsoul was never prepared for a full-scale assault. I heard about it when I was in Pyreflight, maybe six months ago—months before the apes took over there. It was the first account of dreadwings joining the Dark Army...and the first time anyone had heard of Cynder. I heard they even dropped explosives on the city. Something like that had never been heard of before."

Lance took a deep, unsteady breath. "But it had been months since the attack, and no one wanted to talk about it. I never found out exactly how bad Earthsoul fared... I always believed they must have fought the attack off and rebuilt. I never met any refugees, at least..."

"Now..." He gazed sadly across the lake, his jaw tight. "I don't know anymore. If this place was desecrated so badly... It must have been worse than I thought."

Charla swallowed dryly. "You—you don't think it was _completely_ destroyed, do you?"

"I sure hope not." He shook his head again, slowly. "Right now, there's no way of knowing until we get there. Maybe there'll be dragons there. Maybe it'll just be a field of ruins. I don't know."

Charla looked down at her paws and didn't respond. She didn't know what to think. It seemed impossible to imagine that Earthsoul might not even be there anymore. Lance had been so sure about heading there—it was to be their first pit-stop on this impossibly long journey, and Charla had been looking forward to it for days. Now, to suddenly realise that it might not exist anymore... It was like the earth had just been snatched out from under her.

She couldn't imagine it. In her head, Earthsoul was a city as huge and grand as Warfang—and the thought of Warfang in ruins was as impossible as the thought that Jayce might not be alive. So how could it be gone?

"I'm sure it'll be fine," Charla said suddenly, and her voice sounded stronger than she'd expected. "I think Earthsoul is okay. I bet we'll get there and everything will be fine. You'll see."

Then she shut her mouth and gazed stubbornly up at him, daring him to say otherwise. Lance stared down at her, his eyebrows raised. But then his face softened and he almost smiled.

"I'd like to think so, kid. I'd like to think so..."

As he trailed off, his eyes gazing distantly over the lake, Charla eyed him with new interest. It was strange, how much he seemed to care about Earthsoul. He had never shown that sort of concern for Warfang—or even for Jordguard, his home city.

"Did you know many dragons in Earthsoul?" she wondered aloud, before she could stop herself. "You said you'd stayed there for a while, so..."

"I did," said Lance. "About ten months, I think... It was a good city. I'd never stayed anywhere so long until I got there. I guess I just felt welcome there. I made a few friends. I even met another greyscale there—like my brother. Did I tell you?"

Wide-eyed, Charla shook her head.

Lance gave a small sad smile. "A story for another time, I guess. I never liked another place as much as I did Earthsoul. If I hadn't felt so compelled to keep travelling, I might have just stayed there..."

"Why didn't you?"

He looked down at her. "I wasn't ready to settle down. Earthsoul was...a good place. But it still wasn't what I was looking for. I still hadn't found what I wanted. So I kept going."

"Oh..." Charla curled her claws in the mud and stared into the lake. "Have you found it yet? What you were looking for back then?"

There was a beat of silence. Charla held her breath. She didn't know what she wanted to hear—that someone like her was what Lance had been searching for after the death of his brother? That was probably silly.

Finally, he gave a quiet sigh. "I don't know, kid. I haven't figured that out yet."

"Oh."

For several long, quiet moments, they stood together at the edge of the lake. Charla's eyes roved restlessly, and she watched Nuala and Meredy treading along the gently curving banks. Whether they were talking or just walking in silence, she couldn't tell. Maybe, she thought, now was the right time to talk about Nuala's plan.

But when she looked up at Lance—at his tired, worried face—she knew she couldn't do it yet. She wasn't ready. It wasn't the right time.

"We should probably sleep," Lance said suddenly, and Charla stood up straighter.

"But I'm not tired!" she protested.

That wasn't a lie, either. She'd only woken up a few hours ago, really. And though most of those hours had been spent walking, following the river up to Lake Crystellus—which _had_ worn her out a little—she wasn't ready to sleep yet. She didn't think she _could_ lay still.

Lance gave her a small smirk. "You can't stay up all night. Go see if you can catch us some fish, then—that'll wear you out."

Charla brightened instantly. Yes! Food! In all the commotion of reaching Lake Crystellus and seeing what had become of it, she'd almost forgotten her hunger. It had been a whole week since she'd last eaten.

"Okay!" she cried, leaping into the air with a _whump_ of wings and a squelch of mud. "Back soon!"

"Don't go too far out!" Lance yelled up to her. "They're easier to hunt in the shallows!"

"I _know_ ," she called back, and turned away with a roll of her eyes. She wasn't stupid. Jayce _had_ taught her how to fish. And she was going do him proud. Maybe she'd catch a whole school of fish...

* * *

"Look on the bright side," Nuala said later that night, as they sat around Charla's fire and picked fish bones out of their teeth. "The trees are growing back and there's still fish in the lake. It can't all be bad."

Lance just grunted and stared into the flames, his face dark and brooding. They were sitting a short distance from the edge of the lake, away from the dampest muddiest earth, and the scattered fish scales at their paws shone like tiny jewels in the firelight. Charla, for one, felt a lot better with something in her stomach. Nuala had helped her hunt, and together they'd caught enough small fish for everyone—not exactly an entire school, but enough. Now, with the moons high overhead, it mustn't have been far off midnight.

"I suppose we'll get to Earthsoul tomorrow," Meredy murmured, gazing distantly towards the mountains. Charla was sure she didn't imagine the uneasy look Nuala shot at her.

"We'll head out early," said Lance with a grim glance in the same direction. "Get there by midday."

"Assuming we can all get up early," Nuala cut in slyly, smirking at him.

Lance huffed. "We already slept most of the day away; we'll be fine."

"I'm just saying, you sleep like a rock. It's a wonder you haven't grown moss yet."

He scowled but didn't rise to the bait. "If worse comes to worse, Charla can just wake us up."

"What?" Charla yelped, startled out of a daze in which she'd been staring into the flames and only half listening. "What makes you think _I'm_ going to wake up early?"

"Don't you always?" Lance grinned. "You _were_ saying you weren't tired earlier."

Charla poked her tongue out and screwed up her muzzle. "Well, sleep is boring anyway." She leaned back with a sigh, so that the stars filled her eyes. "Wouldn't it be great if we didn't have to sleep?"

"I shudder to think what you'd get up to," Lance said flatly, and she glared at him. Nuala tittered.

"I don't know about you crazy kids," Nuala said, her eyes shining merrily in the firelight, "but I kind of like sleep and I think I'm gonna get some right now."

"Me too," Meredy said in a quiet voice.

Lance grunted his agreement, then stretched his forelegs out and yawned. He glanced at Charla. "Better put that fire out. I doubt there's any apes around now, but we can't be too sure of that anymore... At the very least, we don't want to draw unnecessary attention."

"I can keep watch if you want," Charla said, feeling reluctant to put out her flames. They were so warm and comforting, and they kept the silence of night at bay—like a friend that was always there.

Lance shook his head. "You're not staying up all night. I'm not dealing with a nocturnal Charla. We'll be fine as long as the fire's out."

So Charla huffed, pouted, and reached her paws out to the little floating ball of fire. It flickered and crackled irritably, like it knew what she was trying to do—and that she didn't want to do it—but then the flames uncurled themselves and licked around her paws. Warmth rushed back to her chest; she felt the magic settle back in the space where it belonged, deep in her gut. And then the darkness and the cold returned.

"Too bad," she heard Nuala mumble, and Charla smiled.

"Off to sleep, everyone," Lance said firmly as he curled up in the soft earth. "We've got a lot to do tomorrow."

Nuala grumbled something under her breath, but Charla didn't hear what it was, and then all was silent.

The air seemed to shift. At once, suddenly alone, Charla felt warmth and comfort begin to drain from her chest.

She stayed awake, listening to the breathing of her friends around her, her eyes still open. Without the fire, only the dull moonlight was there to cast a glow upon the desolate banks of Lake Crystellus and the muddy trenches where spirit gems had once been. Cold wind whispered across the water, like a sad sigh.

A shiver traced Charla's spine. She didn't like it here. It reminded her of that deserted city where she had met Nuala and Meredy—all empty and quiet, but whispering with the memories of what had once been. It was only spirit gems, she reminded herself. But still there was something in the air—a tingle of magic, an unheard whisper—that made her feel like there was more here than what could be seen. The spirit gems were gone, but they had left something behind. Something sad, cold and bitter.

Charla shuddered and shuffled closer to Lance. Still, she kept her eyes open, gazing at the pitch-black mountain range that rose into the sky like a row of enormous jagged fangs. Earthsoul was not far now. But who knew what awaited them there?

If this was an omen—this place of ruin and emptiness where magic had once been—she wasn't sure she wanted to know.

Sleep did not tempt her—not in this cold dark place, where thoughts of jackals and nightmares lurked in the shadows. She didn't want to have dreams like that again. But nor did she want to stay up alone, with only the sad whispering memories of spirit gems for company. Her scales crawled in the silence.

At last, Charla rested her head against Lance's foreleg and closed her eyes.

* * *

The lake was glowing.

In the dead of night, when the skies were clouded, it shimmered with a thousand pastel colours, as if the reflection of the moons had shattered into countless glittering shards. Charla floated in the centre of this sea of colour, and the water was warm like a summer breeze, caressing her, coaxing her. The air was cold.

She dived.

Beneath the surface, she found another world. A forest of crystals grew tall from the bottom of the lake, shining with a pinkish pastel glow, their glassy fingers rippling with colours and magic. The water blossomed with a faded purple shine, and in this light Charla saw plants—weeds with wispy, flowery tendrils; brightly-coloured flowers with thin petals that spread out like exploding stars.

Creatures flitted among the plants and the crystals—fish with jewel-bright scales and feathery fins, lizards with webbed paws and fish-like tails, pale snakes with banded patterns of bright colour. Charla swam amongst them, diving into their world. Fish darted away from her, hiding amongst the flowery weed. She reached out a paw and felt the smooth glassy surface of crystal beneath it—felt the warmth and the tingle of magic that danced between her talons. That feeling spread warmly into her chest, like embers blossoming in her heart.

She was accepted. She belonged. The underwater forest spread its crystal limbs out to welcome her—because she was a dragon, a creature of magic. This was her world. Her secret, unseen world.

Then something shook her roughly, and Charla awoke with a start.

Bleary-eyed and muddle-brained, Charla raised her head and felt dry mud fall away from the bottom of her jaw. A huge, blurry green figure stood over her, blocking out the bright light of morning. She licked her lips and blinked a few times.

"Rise and shine, kid. Did you get thirsty in the night or something?" said Lance, as his face swam into focus.

Charla groaned and sat up, still addled by sleep. She was right at the edge of the lake, sitting in the loose mud beside the water—and she could feel it crusted all over her scales.

How had she gotten here? She didn't remember getting up in the night. Bemusedly, she stared across the still surface of the lake, which reflected a flat grey sky, and tried to clutch at the last fading threads of her dream.

Spirit gems. She had seen spirit gems at the bottom of the lake.

At least, she had dreamed she did. When she stared over the water now, there was nothing to suggest that there really were glowing crystals of magic hidden beneath the surface. There was no shimmer or shine. The water that lapped at her paws was ice-cold, unlike the warmth she remembered from her dream.

It must have just been a dream, then. But how had she ended up here, at the edge of the lake? And why had it felt so real?

Lance's paw waved in front of her face, startling her from her thoughts. "You're not still asleep, are you?"

Charla rubbed her eyes and looked up at him. "Almost. ...I think I sleepwalked."

"I hope you didn't go for a sleep-swim," Lance said with a wry smile. "Up you get. You're covered in mud."

She grimaced and got to her feet, shaking the caked dirt from her wings. A short distance away, Nuala and Meredy were also awake and preening muck from fur and feathers. Charla could see her own stumbling paw-prints preserved in the mud—and Lance's, too. She yawned.

It was a gloomy sort of day. Clouds had moved in overnight, choking the sky, and the sunlight that broke through was all milky and grey. The scarred muddy banks of Lake Crystellus looked sad and ill in this light. Though it was unusually dark for morning, Charla had a feeling that it was not as early as it seemed. She felt like she'd slept for entirely too long—her mouth was all dry and stiff.

"We slept late," Lance said, grimacing, as if he'd heard her thoughts. "We should get going once you've cleaned yourself up."

Heat rose to her cheeks. Unspeaking, she stepped into the icy shallows of the lake and started washing the mud from her scales.

How stupid, to have fallen asleep at the edge of the water. Why had she done that? She'd never sleepwalked before. Yet again, she looked up over the surface of the lake and wondered about her dream. Lance was still standing behind her, waiting.

"I dreamed there were spirit gems in the lake," she told him, still gazing across the grey waters. "There were so many of them. Like a forest."

"It would be nice if it was real," he said. "I really wish you could have seen this place before the apes got to it..."

Charla nodded silently. The water lapped around her legs—cold as ice, like the touch of something long since dead. Something curdled in her stomach.

"Lance?" she asked quietly. "You said this place was sacred... Didn't you?" She hesitated, her head still full of the dream—full of magic, light and warmth, and everything that was no longer here. Everything that was gone. She exhaled heavily. "...Why?"

There was a squelching sound as his paws shifted in the mud. "You mean, why was it sacred?"

"Yeah."

"Well... You know what spirit gems are, don't you?"

Charla gazed into the murky water at her feet, and her mind drifted back—back to a time many years ago, when she had been young and naive and the Well of Souls had been home. Her memories of that time were foggy and indistinct, but she could remember some things. She remembered Silverback's gentle hand on her back, and his deep and patient voice. She remembered, vaguely, the things that he had told her. She closed her eyes.

"Silverback said they're very important to dragons. He said that they're crystallized magic... And, without them, we'd have hardly any magic at all. And he said...when a dragon dies and leaves all their magic behind, that's what it becomes. A spirit gem."

"That's why they're called spirit gems," Lance murmured. "They're a mark of those who came before us—the memory and the magic of our ancestors. I'm surprised an ape understood, but...he was right. There is no dragon magic without spirit gems. They are our life force. They are the mark we leave upon the world—the proof of our magic, our existence, and all that we are."

There was a beat of silence. "At least, that's what most dragons believe.

"That's why this place was sacred. It's the only place in the Dragon Realms—maybe in the world—where so many gems grow in abundance. It was many things to the dragons of Earthsoul. It was a great cemetery, where all dragons who had passed on could be honoured and remembered. It was a window to the Starward Shore—the closest we living mortals could ever come to meeting with the ancestors before our time.

"And it was, perhaps, the largest and only known natural Pool of Visions in the world. At least, that was the rumour."

Charla turned to him, her chest tight. "And now it's destroyed."

Lance gazed at her with clouded eyes, and she saw suddenly the sadness in his face—the heaviness of his worn, scarred body, like he was carrying the weight of the world upon his shoulders. "Yes. Now it's destroyed."

Charla looked away. Her paws had gone numb in the cold water, but she could not bring herself to move them, to step out of the lake. She felt heavy, too, as though a great stone had fallen into her stomach. All she could think about was the dream—how wonderful it had felt, delving into that world of magic and warmth, like she belonged there. Once, Lake Crystellus must have felt just like that.

But not anymore. Not anymore.

And _why_ , she wondered with a sudden spark of anger. Because the apes had decided they deserved those gems more?

Because the apes had decided they could just take them, as if they didn't care that they were destroying something so beautiful?

This place belonged to dragons. Spirit gems belonged to dragons. And apes had taken them—just like they'd taken everything else from the dragons. Just like they'd taken everything from _her_.

Charla swallowed the lump in her throat and clenched her teeth. It wasn't fair. She'd tried so hard to ignore it—she'd tried to tell herself that apes weren't all bad, because how could they be if Jayce and Silverback were so good? But the more that she saw, the more that she heard, the more she began to feel that Nuala was right. Apes did nothing but destroy everything that they touched. And Jayce and Silverback were just two pinpricks of firelight adrift in that foul, engulfing darkness.

No matter what, even if she could do nothing else, she had to save them.

"Come on, kid." Lance tugged her tail gently, coaxing her out of the lake. "Let's get going. We want to get to Earthsoul sometime today."

Charla didn't protest. As they made their way back to Meredy and Nuala and prepared to leave, she watched Lance from the corner of her eye. He was anxious. She could see it in the lines around his eyes and the tautness of his jaw; he looked like he would snap at anyone who asked too many questions or did anything wrong. Wisely, she decided to hold her tongue that morning.

She just wished that he would smile again. Seeing that sad and almost defeated look in his eyes made her feel like she was drowning. That was the worst thing, she realised. Never mind that the spirit gems were gone, or that Earthsoul might be a ruin—those things meant little to her, as much as she regretted them. She had never seen the lake in all its glory, or walked Earthsoul's streets like Lance had. But she knew Lance—she loved Lance. And seeing him hurting was like a stone claw around her heart.

Not that she would ever say as much to his face.

When they were ready to go, Lance gathered them all by the lakeside for a final brief talk.

"We don't know what we'll find when we get there," he reminded them. "It could be the Earthsoul I remember, or it could be something else entirely. We need to be on our guard, just in case."

"It was your idea to go there," Nuala pointed out, flicking her ears irritably.

"Yes, I know—"

"Oh, and I just _remembered_... It was your idea that led us to Pyreflight, _too_ ," she added, with a small accusing glower.

"I _know_ ," Lance snapped, and averted his scowling eyes. "My memories of these places are...slightly outdated, I guess. The war is changing things faster than it ever did before. I don't know what to expect anymore."

With those ominous words—and a few shared nervous glances—they took flight into the clouded midday sky.

The air was cold and biting, but Charla relished it. It chased away the heavy feelings in her gut, whipping them away like leaves upon the breeze—and as they rose above the lake, there was a buzz of energy on her scales that hadn't been there before. Maybe it was because she'd slept so well. Or maybe the magic of spirit gems had somehow escaped from the realm of her dreams and given her a much-needed boost. But that was just wishful thinking.

All she knew for sure was that she had a lot more energy than Lance. A day and a night without flying might have done him good, but he was still struggling—she could tell.

Nevertheless, with her head now cleared of gloomy thoughts and the fresh breeze under her wings, Charla suddenly felt that he could do with a little cheering up. Away from that dreary lake and free above the earth, she felt a lot more optimistic. Surely, she thought, Earthsoul would be just fine. If it really had been destroyed, they would have heard about it.

And with that thought firmly rooted in her head, she flew circles around her companions and pulled up alongside Lance.

"Tell me about Earthsoul," she said eagerly, almost colliding with his outstretched wing. "Where do you think we'll stay when we get there? Do you think we'll get to sleep on a bed? I'd never slept on a bed before Warfang."

Lance gave her a flat, brooding look—but she held his gaze stubbornly until he sighed and looked away. A smile twitched at the corner of his mouth.

"We can probably find a cheap den to stay in," he said, rolling his eyes. "If we tell them we're refugees, they'll probably put us up for a night or two without payment. The dragons there are pretty generous."

"What's a den?" Charla asked, encouraged now. "It's not like an orphanage, is it?"

He smirked at her. "Not exactly. It's like a big house where travellers can pay for a room to stay in—you know, just for a day or a few."

"I hear," said Meredy—who couldn't help listening in, seeing as she was riding on Lance's back—"that a lot of other species call them 'inns' instead. Maybe that's more familiar to you..."

"I've heard of _inns_ before!" Charla said, suddenly excited. "Jayce always used to joke about us finding an inn after we escaped from the Well of Souls. I mean, we never did, so... I've never been to an inn before! I mean...a den. What's it like? Do they have food? Are the beds good?"

Lance laughed. It was only a brief, quiet chuckle—but Charla's heart lifted at the sound. The lines around his eyes seemed softer.

"Trust me," he said, with a smiling sidelong glance, "if nothing else, it'll at least be better than an orphanage."

"I'll be happy as long as we don't have to sleep on sand anymore," Nuala called to them over the wind.

"Me too," Meredy murmured, with a little smile.

Charla grinned and faced the horizon, letting the great jagged rise of the mountains fill her eyes. Yes, she thought. Earthsoul was going to be just fine—and for a few days at least, until it was time to move on and begin the next stage of this endless journey, they wouldn't have to worry about anything.

Clutching that belief, she spent most of the flight bombarding Lance with eager questions and comments—until he, too, seemed to start to believe it.

And hours later, in the early afternoon, Earthsoul finally came into view.

As they followed the curve of the river into the foothills of the mountains, strange shapes began to pop up out of the ground. At first, Charla thought they were just odd rock formations—but as they flew closer, she saw they were in fact little stone cottages. There were hundreds of them, scattered amongst the slopes and gullies at the base of Earthrise Range, arranged higgledy-piggledy around winding dirt roads, which twisted carelessly through the trees and shrubs of the foothills.

With a little thrill of amazement, Charla realised she was looking at the outskirts of a city. But it was unlike any city she had seen before.

Ever since Lance had told her about Earthsoul, she had been picturing it in her head. She had seen it as another Warfang—all shimmering golden stone, ordered streets and close-knit buildings, which clustered together and upon one another to rise higher and higher above the earth, towards the sky. But there was nothing golden or towering about Earthsoul.

Where Warfang grew high, as though to reach the stars, Earthsoul grew outwards like the roots of an enormous tree, spreading its tendrils far and wide over the endless foothills of Earthrise Range. Its sprawl seemed to go on forever. The more that appeared on the horizon, the more Charla stared.

It seemed endless. And so… _earthy_.

The little cottages were built of a brown and dusky stone that looked so natural and unassuming upon the earth that it was easy to imagine they had not been built at all, that they had just popped out of the ground, fully formed—as though placed there by nature itself. The roads were neither paved nor straight; they hardly looked like roads at all, just winding paths through the trees and cottages.

Charla flew lower, craning her head in eager search of dragons. What would they look like? Would they be any different from the dragons of Warfang? Would more of them be earth dragons? This seemed like a good place for them.

But as they drew closer to the outskirts of the city, her excitement dwindled. Something cold and sharp began to claw its way up from her stomach, and a chill fell over her scales.

Something was wrong. It was too silent. There were no bright colours, no sound, no signs of life at all. And then she realised.

Earthsoul was in ruin.

The foothills were peppered with gaping holes and jagged chasms, like wounds in the face of the earth. Cottages were shattered, razed to the ground, or swallowed up entirely by these open scars in the land, and all around them the trees were blackened and dead, the rocks charred like ash, as though great fires had blazed through without care or caution. The silence said everything.

"What happened here?" Charla breathed, but her voice was caught in the wind and no one seemed to hear.

Behind her, she heard Lance utter a barely audible hiss. A shudder crept down her spine. This wasn't what she'd wanted to find. This wasn't the Earthsoul she'd expected. It wasn't supposed to _be_ like this.

She'd been so sure...

Swallowing dryly, Charla beat her wings and rose higher, trying to see further. And as she did, something rose out of the land ahead—something so huge and stark against the dull grey sky that it was impossible to miss. A gasp caught in her throat. Winding like a great black snake around the centre of the city, splitting a broken Earthsoul in twain, was an enormous rugged wall.

She flew lower, closer to Lance. "I thought you said they didn't have a wall!"

For a silent moment, his grim eyes raked the skyline—now dominated by that great dark wall, which loomed before them as if to bar their way to the lands beyond. There was no longer any laughter in the anxious lines upon his face.

"They didn't," he said. "At least... They didn't when I was here."


	4. The Wall of Earthsoul

**A/N: Before you start this chapter, I should let you know that some edits have been made to the previous chapter. I reuploaded it on the 8th of December (five days after originally posting it) and it includes some fairly significant additions/rewrites. If you read it before this date, you might want to go back and read it again. And if you're too lazy to reread the whole thing, you'll find the changes in the last section of the chapter (aka from Charla's dream onwards).**

 **Happy New Year! Happy Reading!**

* * *

 **Chapter 4**

 **The Wall of Earthsoul**

It was hard not to feel intimidated by that wall. Charla peered at it from around the corner of a crumbling cottage with a huge dark crack in its roof, and the back of her neck prickled. There were figures moving to and fro upon it. From this distance she couldn't tell what they were, but she hoped they were dragons.

"This doesn't bode well," Lance muttered behind her.

He was the one who had led them to the ground as they'd drawn closer to the wall—it seemed to make him just as nervous as it made Charla. Now they stood amongst empty streets littered with the debris of countless broken cottages and the charred remnants of trees, and the wall loomed over them like a great shadowy guardian, dark against the milky sky.

It was nothing, Charla thought, like the wall at Warfang. It was all rugged and grey and looked as though it had been built in a hurry, and there were no shimmering golden battlements or magnificent watchtowers or grand doors to welcome anyone into the city. It was just a wall—a great, dark, smooth wall, which looked as if it had been carved out of a single impossibly huge rock. She didn't like it.

Why did it cut the city in two like that? Why was so much of Earthsoul left outside of it, as if it was unwanted and cast aside? What was the city like inside that wall?

And more importantly, were there dragons in there?

She squinted at the figures striding upon the wall and thought she could make out the vague shapes of dragons. Surely, she thought, they had to be dragons.

"I mean, it's a good sign, I guess," Lance said, but he sounded grim. "It means there's still dragons here, at least. But I don't know what sort of state the city's in. That wall... It looks like it was erected by earth dragons—lots of them. They must feel like they need to protect the city…or whatever's left of it."

"So what's the plan, big guy? It sure doesn't look like there's a friendly welcome waiting for us," said Nuala, who had come to a hover over his head and was also leering at the wall.

Meredy had slipped off Lance's back when they'd landed and she was standing awkwardly a few paces back, eying the ruined cottages with a nervous eye. She looked small and frightened in the shadow of the broken buildings.

"You might be right..." Lance grunted. "It could be Warfang all over again."

Charla squirmed as he shot a look in her direction. She knew what he was thinking, and she wasn't sure she had another daring night-time escape left in her.

But would it really be like that? Lance had said Earthsoul was nothing like Warfang. He'd said it would be different—that they wouldn't have to worry. And she wanted to see the city. She wanted to know what it was like on the other side of that wall. Surely, if there were dragons there, they would be friendly.

Just because they had a wall now didn't mean that _everything_ had changed—right?

"What do we do?" she asked, kneading the dusty ground. "Should we find a way in? Maybe the dragons there can help us."

She craned her head towards the distant top of the wall. Nuala scoffed.

"Oh, they'll probably let us in—and then never let us leave." Nuala shook her head. "Look, why don't I just fly in and grab some supplies, and then we can get out of here? I'll make sure no one sees me; I'm good at that."

Lance eyed her thoughtfully. "That might be the best idea... If they've tightened their security here, I don't want to find out how they'll react to us—especially Charla. We can just spend the night in the outskirts here and then move on tomorrow. One of these empty cottages will do for shelter..."

Nuala spread her wings. "Fine with me. I'll be back—"

"But I wanted to see the city too!" Charla blurted out, before she lost her chance.

Nuala faltered and lowered her wings, and everyone turned to stare at Charla. She stared back defiantly, her cheeks warming. They couldn't have come all this way for _nothing_. She wanted to see Earthsoul—the real Earthsoul, behind that wall, which wasn't ruined or abandoned like these desolate outskirts.

A shadow passed over Lance's face. "You wanted to see Warfang, too, and look what happened there. I know it's disappointing, kid, but it's better we stay away from there. Unless, of course, you'd rather _stay_ in Earthsoul..."

Charla's face flushed with heat and she quickly averted her eyes. "...No. I want to go to the Well of Souls. I just...thought it would be cool to see the city. You said you really liked it, so..."

"I liked it the way it was a year ago." Lance sighed and shook his head. "Clearly it's not like that anymore. Trust me, Charla, there's nothing in there you haven't seen in Warfang—nothing worth getting trapped there, at any rate."

"But..."

"I could take her with me, you know."

All eyes turned to Nuala. Charla stared; Lance was silent. Apparently unperturbed, Nuala shrugged and added, "I could use the extra help, actually. I can't carry much in the way of supplies. Charla's got the satchel."

A thrill of excitement shot though Charla, but Lance scowled and muttered, "Don't be stupid. Charla's exactly the reason why it's a bad idea for us to go in there. If they see her—"

"They won't see her." Nuala gave a thin, toothy smile. "That's the idea, big guy. They won't see either of us. My illusions will make sure of that."

Lance stared hard at her, and Charla waited with bated breath, her heart racing. This would be so cool; she would be invisible!

"You can do that, then," said Lance, slowly. "You can make someone else invisible?"

Nuala shrugged. "Well, sure. It's easy enough. Charla's only small—"

"Then we can all go," he cut in, and she faltered. "You can turn all of us invisible and we can go in there, grab whatever we need, and get out."

Nuala's expression turned flat. "I'm flattered you think my illusions are that good, but here's the thing... I can't do that. That's impossible. If this place is anything like your typical dragon village, it's gonna be busy. It's gonna be hard enough to make sure no one sees just the two of us. I can make myself unseen pretty easily—and Charla's small enough to not cause me too much trouble. But all four of us? That's asking too much, big guy."

Lance uttered a disapproving grunt. "Well, just go on your own, then. It's too risky for Charla—"

"But I want to go!" Charla insisted. "She said I can go! Nuala said I can go!"

"I don't care what she says!" Lance snapped, glaring at her. "I'm not letting you take the risk. If you get caught in there—"

"She won't get caught."

"You stop interrupting me," he snarled, glowering at Nuala now. "Just go and grab a few things and come back, alright? You're not taking Charla. We only need a few things—a bit of dried meat for the journey, a waterskin or two, a map if you can find one. Just go."

Nuala shrugged and started to turn away, shooting Charla an apologetic look. "Alright, if you say so..."

A buzz of anger and desperation tingled in Charla's gut and she whirled on Lance. "But I want to go! I _want_ to! You don't get to tell me what to do! Nuala said—"

"I said I don't care!" Lance snapped. "You're not going!"

"Yes I am!"

"Enough, Charla!"

"Please!" Meredy interrupted shrilly, and the angry cry in Charla's throat suddenly died. The pale sky serpent gazed tremulously between them, her eyes bright and sharp. "Stop yelling. Please. Nuala..."

All three of them went silent, and Nuala—who had been about to take flight—looked back. Meredy eyed her anxiously.

"I don't think you should go in there alone," she said. "What if...something happens..."

She trailed off, and Charla realised with a start that this had happened before. Nuala alone heading into an unknown city in search of supplies, leaving Meredy behind... This was exactly what had happened in Pyreflight. And terrible things had happened there.

"It's fine," Nuala said—a little sharper than was necessary, Charla thought. "There's dragons in there, not apes. I'll be fine."

But Meredy shook her head and turned to Lance, who looked grim and sour-faced. "Let Charla go with her. They'll be safer together."

"Safer?" Lance's voice cracked with incredulity; he turned to Meredy with wide eyes. "Charla's a child! Nuala will be safer on her own without having to worry about watching a kid!"

"Don't call me a kid!"

"At least they can watch out for each other," Meredy insisted. "I'd go myself, but I can't fly. I'd never get over that wall."

"Yeah." Nuala scoffed. "And I'd take you, big guy, but someone as big as you is hard to hide. Bet you wouldn't want to leave little _Charly_ all on her own out here with only Meredy to protect her, either. What if something _happened_? It's not like she can take care of herself or anything."

There was an audible sneer to her voice. Lance gave a guttural snarl and lashed his tail.

"Well, let's just not go in at all, then!" he snapped. "It's not like we _need_ supplies—now that we're out of the desert, we can just survive off the fat of the land. Let's just leave before anyone sees us. Coming here was a waste of time."

"You'll regret that decision when you end up lost in hostile territory without food or water," Nuala sneered. " ' _Oh dear, oh my, oh how I wish I'd listened to Nuala…'_ "

"Just go!" Lance yelled, flaring his wing out so sharply that it almost slapped Charla across the muzzle. "Do whatever you want!"

"She's not going in there alone!" Meredy insisted.

"Please, Lance!" Charla begged, seizing her chance. "Let me go in! I'll be careful! Nuala will make sure no one sees us! Please!"

"I _am_ capable of keeping her safe, big guy. You can trust me."

"Please, Lance."

" _Please_!"

"Okay!" he roared, and Charla and Meredy both jumped back in alarm. His eyes were hard. "Okay, fine! Fine! Just stop begging! You're doing my head in!"

Charla stared incredulously at him, wondering if she'd heard correctly. She stumbled forward. "So I can go? With Nuala?"

Lance's lip twitched and his paws visibly clenched, but he didn't disagree. "Just...be _careful_. Whatever you do, don't get separated. Nuala, _don't_ let her out of your sights!"

"Relax, big guy," Nuala said with a smooth smile. "No one will even know we were there."

"And don't do anything reckless!" Lance snapped. "Get in, get the supplies, and get out. If something happens, get out of there _immediately_. I don't care if you come back empty-pawed—just come back. Alright?"

Charla nodded eagerly; Nuala just waved a lazy paw. Meredy seemed relieved, at least a little, but there was still a sense of anxiety about her eyes.

"Don't be long," she murmured. "Lance and I will find somewhere to stay for the night. I'll send you a windwhisper so you know where we are."

"And stay together," Lance said. "If you're not back in an hour, I'm coming in after you."

"Gee, better make sure you keep an eye on that invisible hourglass," Nuala jeered, rolling her eyes. Lance's scowl deepened.

"We won't be long!" Charla said hurriedly, thinking he might change his mind.

And before anything more could be said, she broke into a run and leapt into the sky, with Nuala close behind.

* * *

It was a bizarre feeling, being invisible. Charla followed Nuala over the wall surrounding Earthsoul and stared right into the eyes of one of the patrolling guards. He was an earth dragon wearing light bronze armour, and so were all the others she could see on the wall. She tensed as their eyes met, expecting a shout or a violent movement or _something_ , but nothing happened. The guard made no reaction; his gaze slid past her without stopping, as though she wasn't there at all.

Then she and Nuala were over the wall, and the guards behind them were none the wiser.

 _How weird_ , Charla thought, looking over her shoulder. At least she knew Nuala's illusions were working. But she did not have time to dwell on this, because suddenly the wall was behind them and Earthsoul, the real Earthsoul, was beneath them—and Charla's attention was captured in the most wonderful way. A gasp rose in her throat.

The first thing she saw was green.

After the endless sea of gold-and-silver sand and the dusty brown expanse of Earthsoul's ruins, the world beyond the wall was a shock of verdant life. Waves of lush trees sprouted between plump stone cottages, so unlike their burnt cousins outside the wall, spreading their leafy arms out to embrace the city streets. Between them, small lakes lay like great glistening mirrors upon the land, which was whole and full and unmarred by the remnants of war.

And there were _dragons_. Charla saw them at once, their gem-scaled figures moving to and fro along the streets, vividly colourful against the green-and-brown of their city—like crystalline rivers flowing between the cottages. A hum of constant noise hung in the air, rising and falling with the wind, drawing them in further to the heart of the city.

A cool shiver of relief and excitement prickled through Charla's veins. She had expected it to be different, but she hadn't expected this.

It was like an oasis in the middle of a desert—a burst of colour in a dusty brown world—and it was all hidden behind that ugly dark wall. It was all here, protected and preserved, as if that wall was a barrier to the rest of the world. They were truly out of the desert now.

And this...this was the _real_ Earthsoul.

"First things first," Nuala said, as Charla eyed the streets hungrily. "Let's find us a marketplace. Stay close, Char."

"I know, I know," she said distractedly, drinking in the city with wide, eager eyes. As they flew further in, the livelier it seemed to become.

There weren't just dragons in Earthsoul. There were moles, too—scuttling along in small groups, or riding in little wooden carriages pulled by long-nosed grey-skinned animals that Charla thought she'd seen before. And here and there, she even saw cheetahs. At least, she thought they were cheetahs. They were definitely felines, but their fur was dusky-brown and spotless; they wore long colourful robes and some even had simple feathered headdresses.

"Are those cheetahs?" Charla called to Nuala, unable to help herself.

Nuala turned her head to look. "Where? Oh, those are pumas. They're a different sort of cat. No spots, see? I heard they live in the mountains around here, but I guess they don't mind living with dragons."

They flew on, and Charla kept her eyes peeled for anything and everything interesting. She saw a large dome-topped building that looked an awful lot like the Temple of Warfang, its multicoloured roof sparkling in the sun—and then an open-aired bath that a few dragons were soaking in. They passed over a flat green park in the middle of the dusty streets, which was encircled by trees and boasted a large bubbling fountain in the centre, and finally Nuala called out and pointed.

Following her paw, Charla gazed down at a street alive with a rainbow of brightly coloured awnings and a chattering crowd of dragons. It had to be the most crowded place yet.

"There's our marketplace!" Nuala called over the wind. "Let's go see what we can find."

She angled her wings and descended, and Charla hurried to follow. They alighted in a small side street away from the hustle and bustle, but the cacophony echoed around them nonetheless. Nuala peered around the corner.

"That's a lot of dragons," she said, frowning. She looked at Charla. "I need you to stay real close to me, otherwise I might slip up and someone might see you. You ready?"

Charla nodded, already brimming with enthusiasm. She'd never been to a marketplace before; she'd lost her chance to visit the one in Warfang. The noise and colours were already filling her with a buzzing excited energy much like the magic of spirit gems.

"It should be easier if we fly," said Nuala, who hadn't even folded her wings. "Less chance of colliding with someone."

Charla stared at her. Fly _here_? But...everyone else was walking. And all of the stalls were shaded with wide awnings, so how were they supposed to see anything from above? She didn't think her wings were made for that sort of slow, precise flying. She could just see herself colliding with an awning or tripping over someone's horns.

"Um... I think we should walk," she said, scuffing the ground, and then fumbled to explain when Nuala gave her a strange look.

Nuala sighed. "You dragons... Always want to keep your paws on the ground. Anyone would think your wings are painted on. But okay, you walk. Just keep up with me, okay?"

Charla nodded quickly.

"Right. Let's go."

Together, so close their paws were almost touching, they stepped out. The crowd instantly swept them up.

"This way!" Nuala cried, leaping up with a flap of her wings and darting between the legs of passing dragons. Charla scurried after her.

She stumbled her way through a forest of multicoloured legs and broke into a small gap nearer to the middle of the street, away from the awnings and the stalls beneath them. Charla spun around, wide-eyed, trying to look at everything at once. There were stalls full of crystals, stalls full of jewellery, stalls of shining polished armour and brightly coloured cloths; her nostrils flared with the scent of cooking meat and the fainter, sweeter smell of flowers and fruits. Dragons swept past her without stopping, and she had to jump out of their way.

Nuala tugged at her horns. "This way. There's a stall with meat over there."

Her voice was almost drowned out by the ceaseless incoherent chattering around them. Charla spun around and followed, and once again they slipped through the crowd. A few paws and legs stumbled over Charla as she tried to duck around them, but she scurried on and hoped no one noticed. Nuala's blue-tipped tail was flicking ahead of her. She had to keep up.

They broke free of the crowd again, briefly, and Charla looked for the stall Nuala had mentioned. It was right ahead of them, stacked with a tantalising, mouth-watering array of meats in all shades of red. The two of them slunk towards it, and while Charla was busy ogling at the fresh meat and trying not to drool, Nuala darted forward and snatched up several dried strips of jerky hanging on display. The dragon behind the stall—a large orange-scaled beast—didn't blink an eye.

"Here," Nuala hissed, shoving the jerky unceremoniously into Charla's satchel. She darted back to the stall and repeated this process a few more times, until Charla thought her little satchel might burst. "Do you think that'll be enough?"

"Um..." Charla tore her eyes away from the raw meat, licking her fangs. "Probably."

"Alright, let's go. Lance wants a waterskin..."

Nuala darted off again, and Charla scrambled to keep up. Her satchel, now a lot fatter than before, bounced merrily on her withers. She looked longingly back at the meat stall for a second too long and almost ploughed headlong into the legs of another dragon. Stumbling, Charla regained her balance, slipped around the dragon, and looked for Nuala.

The vulpala had gotten a bit further ahead, but her fur was so stark and white that it was easy to see her in the crowd. Charla hurried after her, gazing in awe at the stalls she passed by. There was _so much_ here.

What did anyone do with all of this stuff? Who needed it? Why?

Another dragon jostled her, and Charla had to stagger sideways to avoid being knocked over. Being invisible was hard. She ducked around another pair of dragons bustling towards her, turned to look for Nuala, and suddenly found herself at the edge of the street.

There were two stalls nearby—one blooming with an array of sweet-scented flowers, and another packed with...stuff. Charla stared. A bizarre arrangement of things had been laid out on the stall's table, and more still was hanging from the awning. She saw funny little figurines and statues, stacks of books, clusters of crystals, strings of shells that dangled and jangled in the breeze, and large wooden rings decorated with beads and feathers and delicately threaded webs woven inside them. Slack-jawed, she inched closer.

Behind this stall was not a dragon, but a feline—a puma, as Nuala had called them. The dusky fur along his jaw and chin was thick and fluffy, and the robes he wore were coloured in bright yellows, oranges and reds. As Charla approached the table, he smiled.

"Hello there, little lady. Looking for something?"

Charla froze. She looked up into the puma's warm yellow eyes, and then shot a glance over her shoulder. No one else was at the stall. He was talking to _her_. He could _see_ her.

Her blood ran cold. She must have gotten too far from Nuala, and the illusion had failed. Now what was she supposed to do?

For a second, she hesitated. She could run for it, but that would look suspicious. When she turned her head, she caught no glimpse of Nuala—the crowd had swallowed her up, and Charla was on her own. Heart pounding, she looked back at the puma behind the stall. She had to go find Nuala. But as she opened her mouth to excuse herself, something caught her eye.

Right there, standing on display in front of her, was a map.

They needed a map.

Lance had said so. And here was one right in front of her. A little bit of Charla's rising panic eased.

Forcing a smile, she looked up at the puma. "Um... I just wanted to look."

He spread his arms and his robe slipped back, revealing golden bangles sparkling against his fur. "Then go ahead! I've got plenty to interest a little dragoness such as yourself. Gems? Crystals? Look, I got a particularly nice red one in the other day—matches your scales quite nicely."

Charla looked at the shining cluster of gem, but she was more interested in the map. As she inched closer for a better look, the puma carried on.

"How about a pretty dream-catcher? I make them myself, you know. Those are real diuplume feathers on that one—touch them; you can still feel the electricity."

Distracted, Charla raised her eyes towards the funny hanging thing he was pointing at, and reached up to brush her paw against its bright yellow feathers. A faint tingle shivered through her scales and down her leg. She grinned and drew her paw back.

The puma seemed encouraged; he smiled and leaned forward over his table of wares. "I don't suppose you're much of a reader? I should have a few nice books here that a little lady like you might like."

He began to sift through the stacks, and Charla watched for a moment before her eyes were drawn back to the map. It was not as pretty or as big as the one she'd torn from the library book in Warfang—no colour, just black ink on yellowed parchment—but she knew it was what they needed. She could see Warfang marked on the southern coast, and her eyes sought out the tiny marking that was Earthsoul much farther up north.

With this, they could plan a route. They wouldn't ever be lost. Her eyes drifted south, searching for the Well of Souls.

"Having a nice day?" the puma asked casually, and Charla jolted. He smiled warmly at her and continued rearranging his books, as if looking for something. "Are you here with your parents?"

"Um..." Charla hesitated, suddenly unsure what to do. He seemed friendly enough, but still... She nodded slowly. "Yeah, I am. They're, um...getting food."

"Ah, nothing more important than that," said the puma, his eyes twinkling merrily. "Especially for a young growing lass. We don't see many dragons your age these days. How long have you been in Earthsoul?"

Again Charla hesitated, and suddenly something occurred to her. This was her chance to ask questions—to find out about the city and the wall and what had happened here. Who better to ask than someone who lived here? He'd probably seen everything.

Struck by a sudden wave of inspiration, she said, "We only just got here. We're refugees from Talon's Nook. We're going to Mistral."

"Mistral?" the puma echoed, his eyes widening a fraction. "The sky serpent city? Well, I suppose it _is_ the safest place in the Dragon Realms now, isn't it? We had a fair few dragons head there after our city was attacked... Though, most of us don't want to leave our homes. Can't say I've heard of Talon's Nook, either. Dragon cities get all muddled up in my head, you know. Too many of them!"

"I've only been to Warfang before," Charla said eagerly. "This is my first time to Earthsoul. I didn't know there was a wall—I heard there wasn't one."

"Ah." The puma leaned back a little and seemed to momentarily forget about the books he'd been searching through. His eyes were distant and thoughtful. "Well, there wasn't, see. Not until about a year ago. Golly, has it really been a year? Time flies, doesn't it?"

Charla leaned forward a bit. "Did something happen?"

"Ah, well... Nasty business, that." He looked mildly uncomfortable. "The Dark Army, you know? Don't really know why they chose to target us. Something to do with Lake Crystellus, the dragons say... Anyway, made a right mess of the outer city, they did—and then the guard went and fought them off, and they decided we needed a wall in case those apes ever came back."

"So they built it just like that?"

At this, the puma smiled again. "Well now, that's the marvellous bit. We needed a wall quickly, you see. A wall of this size would take years to build, but we were afraid those apes would come back any day. So the guard gathered up every earth dragon they could—and they made that wall grow right up out of the earth, just like that.

"My word... I still remember the day it went up. The whole city shook, and then suddenly we had a wall. A greater feat of magic I reckon there never was. Thousands of earth dragons working together created that wall, and it's kept us safe ever since."

" 'Course," he added, while Charla gaped at him in awe, "it makes getting in and out of the city a bit of a chore. No doors, y'see? They say it'll make the wall too structurally weak, which sounds a mite silly to me—but what do I know about earth magic? Them guards have got to use their magic to let us through, and they make a whole chunk of the wall sink back into the ground to do it. Impressive to watch, for sure."

"But why didn't they build the wall around all of the city?" Charla asked, unable to help herself. The very idea of thousands of earth dragons making a wall of this size just grow out of the earth was dazzling, but she wanted to know more. "Why is it only around this part?"

The puma's smile turned a bit sad. "Have you ever heard the saying 'cut your losses?' The Dark Army did a lot of damage to our poor city. It would take years to clean up and rebuild... And the Guard of Earthsoul decided we just couldn't afford to do that. Not when there's a chance that the apes could come back.

"It's better for us to protect what we still have. But maybe someday, when we're no longer at war, we can fix it all up—get Earthsoul back to the way it used to be. I hope I'll be around to see that day..."

He sat back, his eyes once again distant and wistful, and Charla thought about everything he'd told her. It made sense, she supposed. But...it was sad. The ruins outside the wall were just like Lake Crystellus—just like that abandoned city where she had met Nuala and Meredy—all empty, broken, and left behind. Now it was little more than a mark that the Dark Army had been there—and a grimmer, darker reminder there could not be.

She gazed distractedly at the map again. How much more of the Dragon Realms was like this? How much more had the apes destroyed? Part of her didn't want to know.

"Here," said the puma, pulling her attention back to him. He seemed to have remembered what he was doing and had slid a small book across the table towards her. "You might like this one. It's a little book of dragon fairy tales—very popular when it was first published. It's got translations in both runes and script. Take a look."

Distracted from her gloomy thoughts, Charla ran her paw over the leathery cover of the book. It was a very dark navy, but it was speckled with white dots that looked like stars. In the middle, the title was emblazoned in white.

 _Star Tales._

Filled with sudden interest, she flipped the book open and flicked through the pages; it was full of pictures, all drawn in black ink. There were dragons and non-dragons alike—cats, moles, canines and birds—and monstrous creatures she'd never seen nor heard of before. She lingered briefly on a frightening image of a naga—one of the snake people, whom she certainly _had_ heard of before. They were vicious and hostile, and openly preyed on young dragons; Silverback had always told her to be wary of them.

Beside these pictures were little passages of text—poems and short stories, written both in the common script and in draconic runes. Many of them had titles written boldly overhead: _Mana, the Mother of Magic_ ; _The First Elementals; Tall Tales and Tatzelwyrms._

Charla stared in wonder. She'd never seen anything like this before. She wanted to read it.

"Nice, isn't it?" the puma said, dragging her attention away from the book.

Feeling dazzled, Charla stared up at him. "...Can I have this?"

His face split into a toothy grin, revealing large white fangs. "For you, little lady? You can have it for five gems. Bargain price."

Gems?

Charla faltered. Surely he didn't mean spirit gems. She didn't have any spirit gems on her—and what would he want with them, anyway? He wasn't a dragon. But then something floated to the front of her mind: a memory from weeks ago, in Warfang.

 _"They're not spirit gems, just pieces of coloured quartz. It's our currency. We use them to buy things we need. Look, this is worth one, and this is worth five—see the number and the crest of Warfang?"_

 _"Why is purple worth more than red?"_

 _"I don't know, kid. That's just the way it is."_

Warmth flooded Charla's face. She put the little book back on the table and gave the map a rueful look. "Um...I don't have any gems. Sorry."

The puma's smile faded a bit. He sat back. "No pocket gems? That's too bad. Why don't you ask your parents to buy it for you? I'm sure they can spare five gems."

Charla rubbed her paw against her foreleg and looked around nervously. How long had she been standing here? And where had Nuala gone? She couldn't see her anywhere—just more dragons, talking loudly, walking quickly, filling the street with their colours and noise. Once again, panic began to rise in her chest. They weren't supposed to get separated.

Digging her claws into her own scales, Charla looked up at the puma. "I'll...go find them."

She started to turn away, feeling awkward—and then someone yelled her name.

"Charla!"

Nuala shot towards her in a blaze of white, and Charla jumped back to avoid a collision. But Nuala halted smoothly and came to a hover inches away from her, glaring daggers. A rush of relief swept through Charla, but it didn't last long.

"What were you _doing_?" Nuala snapped. "I thought I'd lost you! Lance would have eaten me alive!"

"I'm sorry!" Charla yelped. "I...got distracted."

"Doing _what_?"

Charla looked guiltily towards the market stall, and saw that the puma was eying them with great curiosity. More precisely, he was staring at Nuala—and there was a certain shine to his yellow eyes that made Charla a little uneasy. Nuala followed her gaze and stared defiantly back at him.

"What are you looking at?" she snapped. She must have dropped the illusion, Charla realised.

The puma seemed unconcerned by her waspish tone. He leaned over the table again, his eyes wide with wonder. "I can't believe it. You're a vulpala, aren't you? A real living vulpala—right in front of my eyes. I thought you were all extinct."

Nuala bristled. "Well, you were wrong, weren't you? Charla, let's go. I already got the stuff."

Only then did Charla pull herself out of her shock enough to notice the large brown satchel dangling in Nuala's paws. It was bigger than hers—and looked much too oversized for a little vulpala. She opened her mouth to ask about it, but the puma cut her off.

"Friend of yours is she, little lady?" he asked, and Charla nodded dumbly. The puma's eyes gleamed. "I don't suppose...you'd be interested in a trade?"

"A trade?" Nuala echoed suspiciously. "What are you talking about? Charla, what's the deal?"

Charla was just as bemused, but the puma wasn't done.

"I make dream-catchers, you see," he said to Nuala, "and I decorate them with all the rarest and most beautiful feathers I can find. But the feathers of a vulpala...now that's something special. A dream-catcher decorated with the feathers of a real vulpala—it could sell for a fortune." He paused thoughtfully. "Or I could keep it for my daughter. Details, details..."

"You want my feathers," Nuala said flatly.

"Just a few!" The puma smiled and pushed _Star Tales_ back towards Charla. "And I'll give your friend the book she wants."

Charla gaped. She stared at the speckled cover of the book, and then at the smiling puma, and finally at Nuala. Nuala stared back, her face incredulous.

"A book?" she said, raising an eyebrow. " _That's_ what you got distracted by?"

"W-well, it's a cool book!" Charla hesitated, glanced at the map displayed on the stall, and turned back to Nuala. "Uh...did you get a map?"

Nuala stared at her blankly. "What?"

"A map. Lance said we should get one."

"Oh. Right. I mean—no, I didn't—"

"Then let's get that one!" Charla insisted, pointing at it.

Nuala looked and frowned. The puma's eyes gleamed with interest.

"Looking for a map, are we?" he asked, his gaze fixed on Nuala. "I'll throw it in with the book for free if you'll just spare a few feathers."

"Feathers," Nuala repeated dully. "You want to hang my feathers on a ruddy dream-catcher. ...I guess it's better than strapping them to your arms and pretending you can fly."

The puma chortled shortly, as if he didn't even notice the bitterness in Nuala's voice. "Now don't you worry, miss vulpala. I'm no ape. I'll be putting them feathers to good use, you can be sure of that—if you'll give them to me, of course."

Nuala's eyes narrowed.

Charla held her breath; the puma looked like he was holding his, too.

"C'mon, Nu..."

Nuala glowered at her. Then she twisted her head around, muttering, "Fine, let me see if I have any old ones..."

Charla grinned, and so did the puma. Rolling her eyes, Nuala burrowed her muzzle into her wings. Moments later, three sizeable white feathers lay amongst the trinkets and knickknacks on the puma's stall table, their tips dusted blue. The puma's eyes shone like the sun. He reached forward and gathered the feathers reverently in his paws.

"Happy now?" Nuala grumbled, and Charla wasn't sure which one of them she was speaking to.

"Very much so," said the puma, beaming. "Thank you dearly. The book and the map are all yours, sweetheart."

Deftly, he plucked the map off its display stand, folded it up, and slipped it inside the cover of _Star Tales_.

Charla pulled the book off the table and grinned up at him. "Thanks!"

"Thank _you_ , little lady. Enjoy your time in Earthsoul."

"Now let's _go_ ," Nuala hissed in her ear.

Feeling a little sheepish now, Charla shoved the book into her satchel—it didn't entirely fit with all of the jerky in there, but at least it wouldn't fall out—and followed Nuala away from the stall. They ducked back through the crowd towards the other side of the road, and then slipped into a side street where no one was around to see them. Only then did Charla notice the faint shimmer around Nuala's eyes: a telltale sign that she was putting up her illusions again. Seconds later, Nuala turned to her.

"What were you thinking?" she hissed, dropping the large satchel in her paws so that it hit the ground with a dull _whump_. "I could have lost you! Anything could have happened! I told you to stay close to me—I thought you understood!"

"It wasn't my fault!" Charla said, curling her tail defensively. Her face was hot, but she didn't think she'd done anything wrong. "You were moving too fast. I almost got knocked over and then I got lost and that puma distracted me. I didn't know where you went!"

Nuala opened her mouth, her eyes flashing—but then she seemed to change her mind. She gritted her teeth, turned her face away, and took an audible breath.

"Okay. Fine. It's fine. Nothing happened and we're both okay." Her gaze darted back to Charla. "Just don't do that again, okay? You'll give me a heart attack."

Charla grinned weakly. As silence fell, and the nearby chatter of the crowd filled the space between them, her eyes slid down to the satchel that Nuala had been carrying.

"Why do you have that?" she asked. "It looks a bit big for you..."

"It's not for me," Nuala said, smirking. "It's for the big guy. I figured he could make himself useful and actually carry the stuff. I got two waterskins, too—they're in there."

"Oh." Charla looked again at the satchel, frowning. "Did you steal them?"

It hadn't even occurred to her before the puma had tried to sell her the book. Money wasn't something she'd ever thought about before, at least not before Lance had told her about the gem system in Warfang. But stealing was bad, wasn't it? They were taking something that didn't belong to them—just like the apes did.

An uncomfortable feeling curdled in her stomach. If anyone found out, they'd be in trouble; the dragons here would be mad. But Nuala didn't seem to care at all. And what about Lance? Lance must have known. He knew that they had no gems—he must have known that they would have to steal.

So...maybe it wasn't that bad. After all, they'd only taken a few little things...

Nuala huffed. "Of course I stole them. What makes you think I have anything to _pay_ with? As if anyone else will let me pay in feathers. That puma was a weirdo. Now come on, I wanna get out of here. We got what we need and Meredy sent me a whisper not long ago—said they're heading for the northern outskirts. Let's go catch them up."

She gathered the new satchel up in her paws and started to spread her wings, but Charla didn't move. It was like a fire had just flared to life inside her head. Suddenly, her uncomfortable feelings about thievery vanished in the rising tide of a different and even more unpleasant realization. A cold feeling prickled all the way down her spine, from her horns to her tailblade. The chatter of the marketplace became a distant, indecipherable buzz.

"Nuala, wait..."

Quirking an eyebrow, Nuala looked back. Charla fumbled for the words.

"Are you going to tell her tonight? ...Meredy?"

The impatient look in Nuala's eyes faltered, but for a second she did not reply.

Charla licked her fangs and looked over her shoulder, watching the narrow but colourful view of the marketplace beyond the mouth of the street. Dragons passed to and fro without stopping. They had no idea anyone was watching them.

"You said we'd do it when we got to Earthsoul," she said. "So..."

She trailed off, scratching the packed-dirt road beneath her claws. They were at Earthsoul now; that much was true. But she'd always imagined that being at Earthsoul would last for more than a mere few hours. She'd thought they would be here for days—that they'd find a nice inn, stay in a warm room, sleep on a soft bed...

But now... Well, there was no point in staying any longer, was there?

Earthsoul was not the welcoming refuge she'd expected it to be. They'd done what they needed to do and gotten what they needed to get, and now it was time to leave. Earthsoul, for as long as it had loomed tauntingly ahead of them, would soon be behind them.

It was time to go.

And now—too soon—it was time to break their silence.

But Nuala's face tightened, the line of her mouth narrowed, and she shook her head.

"Tomorrow," she said. "We can tell them tomorrow."

With a sweep of her wing, she turned and launched into the air. Charla watched her go for the space of a single heartbeat—and then leapt after her, rising over the buildings and the stalls of the marketplace. As she flew to Nuala's side, she found no will or reason to argue. Clearly Nuala didn't want to tell them any more than Charla did, and she was not sad to have another excuse to put it off.

Instead, Charla cast her gaze upon the lively city streets, so different they were from the abandoned outskirts on the other side of the wall. Everything was colourful and alive here, unlike the city beyond—that sad and silent place from whence all life had moved on, as if forgotten and left to decay.

Charla couldn't fathom how any place could be like that.

It was almost like a sickness, always spreading, never stopping—and here, behind the wall, was the only place where they were safe.

If only they could stay here, too, just for a while. There was more than just emptiness and decay waiting for them on the other side of that wall, and Charla didn't know how to face it. She wasn't ready to tell Lance. She wasn't ready to say goodbye to Meredy. And she wasn't ready to leave this place, this oasis, just yet. The world was a cold, dark and dangerous place out there—full of apes and all the destruction that they had left in their wake—and Charla hadn't thought she'd have to face it again so soon.

But still they flew on, because time would not wait for them, and so Charla tore her eyes from the colourful streets of Earthsoul and followed Nuala back over the wall.


	5. Minor Turbulence

**Chapter 5**

 **Minor Turbulence**

The little abandoned cottage at the edge of Earthsoul was empty, dusty, and riddled with cracks in the walls. But at least it _had_ walls, and a ceiling, and a few mouldy old cushions to rest a weary body, which was more than could be said for a lot of the nearby houses. It was shelter at the very least, though Charla—who had hoped for a warm cosy room and a real bed—couldn't help feeling a little disappointed.

"It's no inn," Lance had told her when they'd arrived, "but at least it's shelter."

Charla couldn't disagree with that.

Meredy had guided them there from afar, with a combination of windsense and whispers, and now the four of them huddled together in this decrepit little cottage and waited for nightfall.

No one had said anything much at all since they'd got back from the marketplace. Conversation had dried up like a shrivelled piece of old lizard skin, and then they'd all just sat there with nothing but their own thoughts while the sun outside began to set. It was bleeding red and gold across the sky now, heralding the end of the day. But Charla wasn't really tired.

Their lightning-fast adventure through Earthsoul's marketplace had left her buzzing with energy, and she'd already told Lance and the others everything the puma had told her. Lance had almost blown his top when he'd heard she'd been spotted inside the city, but the fact that nothing bad had come of it seemed to calm his nerves. He'd even complimented Charla on the cover story she'd come up with for herself—begrudgingly, from the sounds of it—though Nuala received nothing more than a nasty glare and a few choice words.

Now, as Charla gazed out the window and watched the sun set over that great dark wall, there were other things on her mind.

"Are we leaving tomorrow?" she asked into the oddly uncomfortable silence.

Everyone looked at her. Lance, who had been peering suspiciously into the pockets of his new satchel—as if he thought Nuala might have hidden something nasty in there—slowly set it down. "Maybe. I was thinking about that earlier, actually, while you were gone."

"Thinking what, exactly?" asked Nuala, who seemed both wary of his answer and glad to have something to talk about.

Meredy was the only one who stayed silent. She curled her tail around herself and continued to stare mistily into the distance, as if she wanted to be alone with her thoughts. She'd been doing that since Charla and Nuala had come back.

"I was thinking we could hang around here for a bit longer," Lance said, folding his paws on top of the satchel. "We should be reasonably safe here—and I don't know about any of you, but I'm still beat from flying over the desert. Another day of rest would be good for all of us. We've all got a lot more travelling to do after this; the Well of Souls is almost on the other side of the Realms, and Mistral isn't exactly close, either. It'll take you two another few weeks, at least."

Charla shifted uncomfortably and caught Nuala's eye, but they quickly looked away from each other. Almost accidentally, Charla glanced in Meredy's direction and jumped when their eyes met. The sky serpent held her gaze for a whole second, and Charla had the strangest feeling that she had just read her mind. Her heart skipped a beat. But then Meredy turned her head and went back to gazing mistily out the window, and Charla let out a soundless sigh of relief.

"I hate to say it," said Nuala, who didn't seem to have noticed this exchange, "but that might actually be a good idea, big guy. Who knew you had it in you?"

He just stared stonily at her and deigned not to respond.

"But what are we going to do here?" Charla asked, leaning forward on her ratty old cushion, which kept catching under her claws.

"Rest," Lance said blandly. He inclined his head towards her satchel, within which sat their new map—folded safely inside the cover of _Star Tales_. "And plan our route. That's all."

Charla huffed. "But that sounds boring. I want to get going. We're already so far away from the Well of Souls."

"And we're not going to get very far if we push ourselves past exhaustion," Lance growled. "It's only a day, kid—if that. We'll see how we feel in the morning, okay?"

She rolled her eyes. "Okay..."

It was true that she wanted to leave as soon as possible. Sure, maybe she'd expected to spend a few days at Earthsoul, but she'd expected to stay in the city where everything was bright and alive and there were other dragons to talk to. Not here, where there was nothing but dust and debris and abandoned streets that looked like they hadn't been walked in years. This place was creepy. And the more they lingered, the further away the Well of Souls—and Jayce—seemed to feel.

"Well, _I_ think we should hang around for another day, at least," said Nuala, who shot a meaningful look at Charla that she tried to ignore. "What do you think, Meredy?"

Meredy shifted, weaving her claws though the fur on the end of her tail. She didn't look at any of them and instead spoke to the floor. "I suppose..."

Charla pouted. Lance sighed.

"We'll see tomorrow," he said, shaking his head. And then, with a grim look at the reddish sky outside the window, he got to his feet.

Charla sat up quickly. "Where are you going?"

Lance looked at her, his face impassive. "Just for a little walk. I won't be long."

Without waiting for a response, he pushed his way past the wooden door and left, leaving his satchel behind. Charla jumped to her feet. She dropped her own satchel beside his, shot the others a quick glance—to which Nuala just shrugged—and darted out after him. Neither Nuala nor Meredy made any move to follow.

It was darker outside than Charla had expected. That faded red glow she'd seen from the window was all there was left of the sunset. The stars were already out, peering through gaps in the clouds, and the great red moon hung pale between the peaks of Earthrise Range. Lance was walking away down the street, his pawsteps crunching on the dusty road. The abandoned cottages cast dark shadows over him.

Charla exhaled slowly and followed. There was a biting chill to the air, but it was nothing like the cold winds she'd felt in Warfang. They really were further north now—further from the icy south.

Lance turned as she approached, alerted no doubt by her pawsteps. At first, Charla thought he might be mad with her, that maybe he hadn't wanted her to follow. But his eyes were gentle—and maybe a little sad—and he let her fall into step beside him. She gazed up at him.

"It's very different," he said quietly.

Charla said nothing. She didn't think he wanted her to.

"I remember when these streets were full of dragons," he went on, lifting his head to survey the road before them. It was empty and dark. "They were all so friendly. It was almost like everyone knew everyone—no one was a stranger. It was homely...for a city of this size."

He exhaled heavily. They stopped in the shadow of a broken cottage whose entire front end had been crumbled in, leaving a gaping dark hole in its face. Rubble and debris were scattered across the road. Lance's paws clenched, and chips of stone crunched under his claws. As Charla followed his gaze towards the dark line of the wall in the near distance, she couldn't help herself.

"Are you sure you don't want to go see the city? On the other side of the wall, I mean? Maybe it's more like how you remember it..."

Lance shook his head. "I told you, it's too risky. Getting trapped in Warfang was enough for me. I don't want to go through that all over again."

"But it's not like Warfang," Charla insisted. "That puma was really nice to me, and—"

"So what? You were seen by a single puma who thought you were there with your parents. What happens when you're discovered by the guards and it's found out that you're a wayward orphan on a mad quest to the Mountain of Malefor? We're not risking it." He turned away from her.

"Even with Nuala's illusions?" Charla said to his back. When he stiffened and did not reply, she added quietly, "Are you scared of something? Is that why you don't want to go there?"

"I'm scared of getting stuck there," he grumbled. There was a pause, and his shoulders seemed to sag. With a sigh, he turned back to her. "Look. Maybe I just...don't want to know. This isn't the Earthsoul I remember. Who knows if anyone I used to know is still here? Who knows if they're even _alive_... Maybe I don't want to find out. And besides... Things have changed since I was here last. I have something to lose now."

He averted his eyes from hers. "It's not worth the risk. I won't be separated from you again—not for something like this."

Charla watched silently, her face hot, as he turned to look instead at the shattered cottage in whose shadow they stood.

Something to lose...

He was talking about her, wasn't he? Some not-too-small part of her felt very pleased about that, but the rest of her just wished he would see that she could take care of herself. He didn't need to be so worried about her all the time... Not if it was making him give up on other things.

"I never told you about my friend," Lance said suddenly, and Charla looked up at him in surprise. "That grayscale I told you about, remember?"

"Oh. Yeah. He lived here?"

"He lived...somewhere on the outskirts of the city." Lance's jaw trembled and he gave a strange barking laugh that sounded harsh and wrong in the silence. "I can't even... I can't even remember where he lived. Which house was his..."

He turned slowly, his eyes sweeping over the far-spread cottages around them, and shook his head. Charla shifted uncomfortably.

"I'm sure he's alright..."

"I'm not." Lance's voice caught, but he tightened his jaw and blinked the emotion from his eyes. When he turned to Charla, his face was a mask of stone. "He was an old dragon. Older than a greyscale had any right to be, he said. I remember he told me the only reason he'd lived so long was because he'd been born into a time of peace. Although, by the time I met him, that peace was already breaking..."

"What was his name?"

"Cinis. He said his parents gave him the name hoping he was just an oddly-coloured fire dragon. Everyone used to call him Ashy. I think it bothered him, but he pretended it didn't."

He gave a wry smile and started to walk again, his eyes sliding from one broken cottage to another. Charla followed, watching him.

"He didn't really have a good life," Lance went on. "He called himself blessed, but...I think he was lonely. No one took him seriously. Stupid kids used to yell insults at him and throw things at his house, and a lot of the adults pretended he didn't exist. He never retaliated. He knew it wouldn't fix anything. And I guess he was just that kind of dragon, too... He'd never lift a claw against anyone."

Lance exhaled slowly. "I was...really glad I met him. But it showed me exactly what I'd always feared—that even if my brother had lived, he never would have had a _life_. He never would have been accepted.

"Maybe that was why I left, even despite how much I liked this city. I didn't want to accept that yet. I still wanted to find somewhere—some _thing_ —that would prove me wrong. ...But I don't think I ever found it."

"Does that mean you've given up?"

As soon as the words left her tongue, Charla wished she could bite them back. But it was too late for that. Lance hesitated beside her, his face shadowed in the darkness. Then he extended a wing and brushed it softly against her shoulder.

"Maybe," he said. "Maybe not."

And he walked on. Charla lifted a paw to follow, but his next words stopped her.

"You should go back before it gets any darker. I just want to walk for a bit. I'll be there soon."

"Oh. Okay."

She let her paw fall and watched him plod away down the street, leaving her behind. Maybe she'd upset him. He probably wanted to be alone. Feeling a little dejected, she turned and followed the road back towards their little cottage.

By the time Charla dragged her paws back to where she'd started, the last fiery tongues of sunset had faded from the sky. Darkness curled around her, and the cottage before her looked suddenly like the gloomy remains of an old haunted ruin. In the dark, its cracked walls were grey and tomblike. Charla hesitated as she approached. Voices were coming from within—sharp, raised voices.

Were they arguing?

Rolling her tongue nervously, Charla crept towards the door. Just as she did, however, it swung open. Charla shrank back. Meredy stood on the threshold, dark-eyed and tense. She swept past with only a grim look at Charla, and disappeared down the street in the opposite direction to where Lance had gone. Breathless, Charla stared after her.

What was that about? Had Nuala... But no, they'd agreed to tell Meredy and Lance tomorrow. Hadn't they?

Tense now, Charla pushed through the door—which had swung shut behind Meredy—and stepped into the dark cottage. Nuala sat alone in the middle of the floor, her back to Charla and her head down. Sitting there, alone and pale in the centre of this abandoned place, she looked just like a ghost. A shiver trembled through Charla's paws. She stepped forward.

At once, Nuala's ears swivelled towards her and she turned her head. Her eyes were sharp and expectant—but at the sight of Charla, they dulled.

"What happened?" Charla asked, moving closer. "You didn't tell her—"

"No," Nuala said sharply. "I didn't. She just..." Her teeth gritted and her ears fell back. "She knows something's up. She knows I'm not telling her something and it's annoying her. She's already angry with me, and she doesn't even _know_. I just... Why can't I... Why can't I just _tell_ her?"

Her tail lashed fiercely, smacking the floor and throwing up a cloud of dust. Charla hesitated.

"We'll tell her tomorrow, right? She'll understand. I'm sure she won't be angry..."

Nuala made a sharp scoffing noise through her teeth and got to her feet. Her ears were still angled back and there was a dark look on her face. She swept past Charla without a second glance.

"I'm going for a quick flight. Don't wait for me."

Charla opened her mouth to protest, but it was no use. Nuala slipped through the door and disappeared with a flick of her blue-tipped tail, and then silence fell upon the cottage. Suddenly alone and bewildered, Charla sat down on the dusty floor.

Everything was so dark and grey. The gloom made it hard to see anything inside the cottage—just the sad shapes of flat cushions and their abandoned satchels. She couldn't even see the moons through the window, just a smattering of pale stars. The air seemed suddenly very cold. Exhaling shakily, Charla held her paws up to her chest and willed fire from her belly.

Flames flared to life around her claws, warm and bright. She hugged them close and curled her tail around herself.

Why was it turning out like this? She didn't want to be alone, so why did everyone else?

It shouldn't be so hard just to agree and be happy together. It should be easy to tell Meredy and Lance about their plans, and to have them understand. They shouldn't have to worry.

But they did worry, and Charla didn't know what to do. If only there was someone she could talk to. Someone who could tell her that everything would be okay. The cottage was huge and creepy all alone in the dark...

Sighing, she curled up on a cushion and sat there for what seemed like hours, with nothing but the quiet hiss of her flames to keep the silence and the cold at bay. She watched the glowing orange patterns it painted across the dusty floor, watched them flow and ebb in time with the pulsing of the flames between her paws, like waves upon the seashore. They danced. Her eyelids grew heavy.

She hoped someone would come back soon.

It was so quiet.

Then the door creaked and Charla's head shot up. Lance shouldered his way back into the room and gave her an odd look.

"Are you cold?" His eyes darted into the shadows around the room. "Where are the others?"

"A little." Charla let her paws fall, leaving a little bobbing orb of fire in front of her chest. "They went out."

"This late?" Lance huffed and stepped further into the room, letting the door swing shut behind him. As he moved closer, the firelight spread golden across his pale chest. "Well, they better come back soon. It's pretty dark out there, and I don't know how safe these mountains are."

Charla eyed him warily, even though she'd already started to relax in his presence. "What do you mean?"

He shrugged. "I mean, we don't know what sort of creatures live around here. Now that the dragons have retreated from the outskirts of the city, anything could have moved in. There are still jackals around these parts. And last time I was here, I heard rumours about naga in the mountains. We'll want to be careful."

Charla twiddled her claws nervously. She hadn't thought about that. They were so close to the city that it was hard to imagine that any wild, dangerous creatures might be lurking out in the dark. But it was true that these abandoned outskirts weren't much of a city anymore.

"I'm sure they'll come back soon," she said, staring into her own flames. They flickered and crackled as though in agreement.

Lance just grunted. With a heavy sigh, he flopped onto the nearest cushion and settled on his stomach, his eyes still on her. He seemed to have relaxed now—the tense, pensive look was gone from his face, as if he'd finally accepted what had happened to Earthsoul. Now he just looked tired.

"They'd better come back," he said. "I don't want to go out looking for them. We've got a long journey ahead of us and I need a good long sleep. Otherwise I'm not going to be much good for anything tomorrow."

Charla nodded slowly, but didn't speak. There was a strange lump in her throat.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow, everything would happen. They'd leave Earthsoul—or at least make plans to. Meredy would be left behind. And Lance... Lance knew nothing.

The unspoken words stuck like tree sap in Charla's throat. She'd already kept this secret too long, and she hated it. She hated lying. She hated keeping things from Lance—like she'd done in Warfang, in those awful lonely days where they'd hardly spoken at all.

Could she really tell him tomorrow?

Would he understand?

Could she even wait that long?

It was torture. She had to talk to _someone_ , and Nuala was not there, Chelcie was not there—no one was there who would listen, who she could tell this secret to. No one except him.

She took a shuddering breath.

"Maybe we _should_ go look for them..." Lance grunted, watching the door with an increasingly anxious look on his face. He looked back at her. "When did they leave?"

Charla breathed out and deflated a little. "...I don't know. A while ago. When I got back."

He hummed thoughtfully, grimly, and started to stand up. Her heart gave a great jolt. A desperation seized her—as if this was her last and only chance to let it out, and suddenly she knew that she couldn't hold it any longer. Never mind what Nuala had said. Never mind the fear that he would be angry with her. Never mind that Meredy still had no idea.

She had to tell him. She had to tell him _now_.

"Lance, wait!"

Startled, he whipped his head around to face her, and her voice froze like ice in her mouth. The fire crackled fiercely between them, making their shadows dance erratically upon the walls. His iron-grey eyes held her in silence, waiting.

Charla inhaled, and the words fell like burning embers from her tongue.

"I need...to tell you something..."

* * *

Lance paced. Backwards and forwards, wall to wall, unspeaking and grim-faced—waiting for something that had yet to happen. Charla watched him, curled up in a ball on one of the cushions, her fire-orb hovering above her folded paws. It was the only light in the cottage. Everything else was layered with the shadows of night.

And Meredy and Nuala still weren't back.

Charla didn't know who she wanted to see come through that door first. Now that Lance knew everything, no one would be sleeping until he'd had his say. She knew the confrontation between him and Nuala wouldn't be pretty, and she didn't look forward to it. But nor did she want to see the look on Meredy's face when Lance told her what Nuala refused to say.

"She needs to know," he'd said grimly, after he'd finished scolding Charla for not saying anything until now. "If anyone needs to know, it's her. It's bad enough that you didn't tell me, but this whole thing is _about_ Meredy. She deserves to know. And if Nuala refuses to tell her, then I will."

And then he'd started to pace, and he still hadn't stopped. Charla twisted her paws as she watched him, as his eyes kept darting expectantly towards the door. It was only a matter of time before he'd decide to go out and look for them. But before he could make that decision—before Charla could pluck up the courage to suggest it—the door creaked. Lance stopped.

A pale head poked through the gap. Nuala's eyes darted across the room and her ears swivelled forwards in apparent surprise. With a few quick flaps, she pushed through the door and into the room.

"I thought you'd all be sleeping by now," she said brightly. "It's getting late. You weren't up waiting for me, were you?"

"A little," Charla said weakly, shrinking into her cushion. She could already feel the tension emanating like heat from Lance's scales.

"You could say that," he growled, turning to face her. "Where's Meredy?"

Nuala's eyes widened a fraction and did another quick sweep of the room. "She's not here? I thought she would have been back ages ago. You haven't seen her?"

Charla shook her head, her heart sinking. "Not since you left."

A shadow fell across Nuala's face and her wingbeats turned tense. "I haven't seen her either. Let's go look for her. Something might have happened."

"Before that," Lance said sharply, stepping forward, and her gaze darted to him. "We need to have a little chat."

Nuala cocked an eyebrow. "A chat? Look, whatever you want to talk about can wait. Meredy—"

"It won't take long," said Lance, his jaw set stubbornly. "If she's not back by the time we're done, we'll go look for her. Besides...it's better she isn't here for this."

Wary interest glinted in Nuala's eyes and she turned a questioning look on Charla, who shrank back a little more. The coldness in her lungs made it hard to speak; all she could do was nod, but that seemed to be enough. Nuala understood.

"Right," she said, turning back to Lance. "We're all on the same page now, I see. I thought we were going to tell you both tomorrow, but I guess this works better. I know you've got something to say, big guy—so spit it out."

A brief spasm of anger flitted across Lance's face, but it was gone in an instant—and once again he wore a stony mask.

"You're not coming with us," he said.

There was a beat of silence.

Nuala laughed—a high, shrill bark that put Charla's nerves on edge.

"I can't say I wasn't expecting that!" She grinned and fixed him with both ice-blue eyes. "I knew you wouldn't be happy. But I'm afraid you're wrong... I _am_ coming with you, whether you like it or not. Charla and I already agreed on this."

Lance's nostrils flared, but the words that came out of his mouth were steady and carefully measured. "I don't care what you and Charla think you have agreed on. I assumed you'd planned to leave Meredy in Earthsoul, which is bad enough, but Charla tells me you intend to let her carry on to Mistral _on her own_. The very idea that you would abandon her in the middle of nowhere because of some half-baked plan is both stupid and irresponsible. Meredy is a _child_ , and she is in no fit state to—"

"Meredy will be fine," Nuala cut in, the grin falling from her face. "She's not a hatchling. If she wants to stay in Earthsoul, fine—but she's perfectly capable of getting herself to Mistral without me. And our plan isn't 'half-baked.' Charla and I have already talked about it. We know what we're getting into."

"Do you?" Lance growled. He took another step forward. "Because it sounds to me like you have no idea. I know why you want to come with us. I know that all you want is revenge—and somehow, inside that angry little head of yours, you've decided that _we_ , a bunch of misfits and kids, can take down the _King of Apes._ That sounds to me like you have _no idea_ what you're getting us all into."

Nuala bristled and flew in a little closer, so that her wingbeats made Charla's fire flicker ominously. Charla swallowed dryly and shielded it with her paws. She didn't trust herself to speak. This wasn't her argument.

"I'm well aware, _thanks_ ," Nuala sneered, her eyes narrowing. "I know the stakes. I know it's not going to be a walk in the park. But I also know that we have a chance—and you'd see it too if you could pull your head out of your ass long enough to see that Charla isn't just a little hatchling for you to protect."

"She's a child!" Lance snapped.

"She's a dragon!"

They glowered at one another and Charla sank a little more into her cushion, feeling sick. Part of her wanted to agree with Nuala—because she _wasn't_ just a child and she _could_ take care of herself. But the rest of her... The rest of her tensed with fear at the thought of Gaul, at the thought of facing him in battle, of killing him, as she had promised Nuala they would. It seemed impossible.

But she couldn't say that to Nuala. That was the deal they'd made. That was what Nuala wanted.

"And besides," Nuala said quickly, before Lance could spit out his next retort. "That's not the only reason I'm coming. Is it, Charla?"

Charla sat up quickly, almost smothering her fire by accident. "Is... Isn't it?"

Nuala frowned at her. "Of course not. Didn't we talk about this? I said I'd help you save those ape friends of yours. Remember? You've already saved me twice. It's the least I can do to repay you."

Charla stared, wide-eyed, while Lance leered at Nuala suspiciously.

That wasn't what Nuala had said before... Was it? Suddenly, she couldn't remember. She didn't think Nuala had ever mentioned anything about repaying her—or anything at all about being in debt to her, like Lance had. All she remembered was making the deal, that Nuala would help her save Jayce and Silverback if Charla helped her take revenge on Gaul. That had been their deal.

...Hadn't it?

"Maybe I didn't make myself clear enough," Nuala said, flicking her ears. "Getting revenge is just a bonus. If we get a chance to take down Gaul, we'll take it. But first and foremost, we save Charla's apes and get them out of there. And trust me, you're going to have a hard time doing _that_ without my help."

"We'd manage," Lance growled, but Nuala didn't seem to hear him.

Charla stared at her, her head ringing oddly. All this time, she'd thought that Nuala was just coming with them to get her revenge, and that she would only help them save Jayce and Silverback in the process—as part of the deal. She'd never thought that it might be the other way around. Back when they had spoken about this, on that night in the foothills of Sunback Ridge, hadn't Nuala made it sound like revenge was all that mattered?

Maybe she had misunderstood.

She must have gotten the wrong idea. Nuala wasn't just burning with revenge. She wanted to help. She wanted to help _her_.

Warmth that had nothing to do with fire tingled through Charla's paws.

"Even if that _is_ the case," Lance growled, jerking her out of her thoughts, "you're still not coming with us. You can't just leave Meredy like this."

"And why not?" Nuala retorted, angling her ears back. " _She's_ not a helpless child, either. She _can_ make it to Mistral on her own."

"How?" Lance snapped. "She's completely dependent on us! She can't even use magic! How is she supposed to hunt? To protect herself? She's not exactly a day's walk away from Mistral. It'll take her weeks to get there, and anything could happen in that time."

"Bloody ancestors, Lance! Do you really think she's so useless? You know she survived on her own for almost a month before she met me, right? She can take care of herself. You talk about her like she just hatched or something."

"She survived because she had to—she had no choice! Do you really want to make her do that again? She's a child. She shouldn't _have_ to struggle along on her own, especially with her magic blocked and everything—"

"You're really hung up on that, aren't you? You know who else doesn't use magic here? _You_."

"I'm used to it!"

"So is she!"

"No, she isn't!" Lance snarled and lashed his tail, and again Charla's little fire almost went out. "You don't understand. It took me months—maybe even _years_ —to get used to life without my element. I _struggled_. It was _incredibly_ hard—and I was all alone, trying to survive in the wild. I would not wish that upon anyone, least of all someone as young as Meredy. _You_ said you'd help her get to Mistral—so _do_ it! Help her! She needs you! Far more than we do, at any rate."

"Look," Nuala snapped, and finally she descended to the floor and folded her wings. Small though she was in Lance's shadow, she gazed upon him with unmatched determination in her icy eyes. "You don't know Meredy like I do. I've seen her at her best and I've seen her at her worst. I know it'll be hard for her, but I also know that she can do it. I wouldn't choose to leave if I didn't think she'd be fine. She's important to me."

"Then act like it!" Lance spat, his eyes glinting with fire. "Stay with her!"

"I can't!" Nuala cried. "I can't stay with her forever! There are other things I want and I can't just keep following her forever. I'm not meant to go to Mistral. I know that. I haven't made this choice lightly. I'm not meant to stay there."

"Then don't stay! Just take her there, like you said you would!"

"And miss my chance to go with you?" Nuala shook her head. "I'd never catch up to you if I did that. I'd never find you. And I know you're not willing to make the detour to Mistral, either. You could probably get to the Well of Souls in the time it takes to get there and back."

Lance clenched his jaw with an audible crunch. There was a moment of pause. "...You don't need to come with us."

"I want to," said Nuala, her eyes bright. "I want to help you. And if I don't go with you...I'd never find another chance to get so close to Gaul—to get so close to killing him."

"You're deluded," he growled.

Nuala just shrugged. "I've made my choice. I already decided that you weren't going to change my mind. As long as Charla's okay with it, I'm coming with you."

"And if she isn't?" said Lance.

"I am," Charla cut in, digging her claws into her cushion. He turned to her, a protest already on his tongue, but she forged on. "I want Nuala to come. She can help us."

"And Meredy?" he growled.

"Nuala says she'll be fine. I believe her."

His lip twitched, but he seemed to have no more arguments to speak. Instead he turned slowly, his glower sliding past Nuala and settling on the door, which remained dark and motionless. Meredy still hadn't come back.

Charla shifted. How long had they been talking? Where was Meredy now?

Why hadn't she come back?

"We'll continue this later," said Lance grimly. "Meredy needs to have her say, too. We can't decide everything for her."

"It's already decided," Nuala muttered, but he ignored her. She huffed. "But you're right, we need to tell her."

"She's still not back," Charla said, eying the door nervously. Moonlight was starting to peer through the windows, painting the walls with a pale glow. It was late.

"We'll look for her," Lance said. "Split up. She can't have gone far. When you find her, get her to send us a windwhisper and we'll all meet back here. Agreed?"

Charla and Nuala both nodded, and Charla put out her fire, plunging them all into shadow. As they headed for the door, Lance muttered a few more words.

"Be wary. And stay away from the mountains; we don't know what's out there. I just hope it's not naga..."

* * *

Charla soared high, curling her wings in the cold night-time air. Earthsoul spread out below her, sprawling over the flat earth as far as her eyes could see. It looked strange in the darkness. Within the wall, the streets and buildings glowed with the fiery light of a thousand lanterns, just like Warfang, as if speckled with fallen orange stars. That glow bled into the sky above it, so that the stars overhead seemed faded and weak—pale in comparison.

But, outside the wall, everything was dark. The empty streets and slumped black silhouettes of cottages were all but invisible, like they had been swallowed by a great gaping void. The ribbons of stars splayed overhead shimmered merrily in this darkness.

Charla whirled on the wind and turned her gaze northeast over the mountains of Earthrise Range, which were just as dark, just as featureless, as Earthsoul's deserted outskirts. They were like great black walls rising jagged into the sky.

Meredy was still nowhere to be seen. The others mustn't have found her, either, or she'd have heard. Charla was getting worried. She flew lower, skimming over the tops of damaged cottages, keeping her eyes peeled for anything pale or moving. Someone as pale as Meredy shouldn't be hard to see in the darkness.

But still there was no sign of her. Charla shivered in the breeze.

What if something had happened to her?

What if there _were_ naga in the mountains, like Lance said?

Her stomach churned at the thought. Shoving those images out of her head, Charla drifted away from the edge of the city and cast her gaze through the darkness. There was no sign of Lance and Nuala, either—and now that she was away from them, alone again, Charla found herself feeling cold, clammy and ill. Their argument kept repeating itself on a loop inside her head. Every time she stopped to think, Lance's voice echoed through the silence.

 _"She's a child!"_

 _A child._

Was that really all he thought of her? Was that all she was to him? Just a kid? Just some annoying child who needed his protection?

Her chest clenched in the cold, a flare of hot anger biting through the frost in her lungs. She didn't need _anyone's_ protection—not even his. If only he wouldn't treat her like she was helpless...

If only he would treat her like Nuala did. Like she was equal.

Something glinted in the darkness and Charla turned towards it, banishing that line of thought. It was the Aspen River. Moonlight shimmered on its rippling surface, creating a glistening path that guided her into the foothills of the mountains, into the blackness. Charla didn't stop to think. Almost automatically, as though she'd meant to do it all along, she followed it. She dipped lower, listening to the burbling of the river as it carried on into the night, reaching to skim her claws over the water's surface.

The cold shot up into her bones. Shivering, she beat her wings and flew a little higher, looking forward. Maybe Meredy had followed the river, too. And as Charla flew, movement caught her eye.

She whipped her head around. Something dark and nigh-invisible was moving along the riverbank. It moved gracefully—leaping and gliding, like it didn't need to touch the ground, and darkness seemed to ripple in its wake. At first, Charla had no idea what it was. Then another appeared out of the gloom, moving just as smoothly, just as otherworldly—and a jolt of shock speared through her.

Jackals. Those were jackals.

The breath caught in her throat. Lance had said there were jackals around these parts, but she hadn't thought they came _this_ far out of the Arid Lands. What were they doing here?

Wide-eyed, she watched them bound away along the riverbank, until they were almost lost to her in the darkness. With a soft beat of her wings, she flew after them. The river passed below her, and the mountains loomed before her. The earth became rugged. It rose and fell in hills and gullies, peppered with copses of dark trees and craggy outcrops of jagged rock. The jackals ran on, leaping unhindered across this uneven land, and Charla followed in the air as silently as she could.

Where were they going? Did they live here?

She wanted to know. But as she cleared the peak of a high slope, something else in the gully beyond caught her eye. Something long, slender and pale—standing upon an outcrop of stone and watching the jackals below. Charla sucked in a sharp breath.

"Meredy!"

The sky serpent started. She twisted around, slipped, and almost fell off the outcrop—and by the time she steadied herself, Charla was already alighting on the craggy slope beside her. She stumbled in the shadowy patches of grass. Meredy stared at her.

"Why are you here?" she asked. "Is something wrong?"

Charla paused for half a second to catch her breath. "I was looking for you! Everyone is! We didn't know where you went. Why didn't you come back to the cottage?"

Meredy hesitated, her brow furrowing in the gloom. "I...didn't think I'd been gone long. I just wanted to get some fresh air."

"You've been gone for ages!"

"Have I?" Meredy shifted uncomfortably and half-turned away. "I suppose...I got distracted."

Her eyes gazed off, down into the depths of the gully where the river carried on, glistening with moonlight. Charla followed her gaze and saw that the jackals were still there. There were more of them—a whole pack; maybe six or seven—all gathered on the riverbank. Their forms shifted and shivered unnaturally in the darkness. Charla edged a little closer to Meredy.

"I didn't know jackals came this far out of the Arid Lands," Meredy said quietly, without taking her eyes off them. "I wanted to see where they were going. I think they live here."

Charla tore her eyes from the jackals and stared at her, wondering how she could have echoed everything that Charla had been thinking. But Meredy did not return her stare, and for several long silent moments they just gazed down together at the jackals.

The wind howled around their heads, the night turned, and slowly Charla's eyelids began to feel heavy. The jackals didn't seem very interesting anymore. She was tired.

"Hey," she said, nudging Meredy. "Let's go back. Lance and Nuala are worried."

Meredy flicked an ear and looked at her, but her eyes were glazed and distant. For a few seconds, she just stared at Charla.

Charla shifted uncomfortably. "Um... Do you think you could send them a windwhisper? So they know I found you? Then we can go back."

Meredy blinked a few times and her eyes seemed to clear. Shivering slightly, she looked back down at the jackals. "...Yes, okay."

Then she closed her eyes and was silent, bowing her head. Charla watched her. Her lips moved faintly, as if she was whispering something that could not be heard, and the breeze seemed to pick up around her, dancing about their heads. Then she fell quiet, the wind died, and all was silent. But still Meredy made no move to leave.

Charla hesitated. Maybe she was upset. Maybe she didn't want to see Nuala. They had argued, after all—at least, that was what it had sounded like.

But what was she supposed to do about that?

She wanted to go back. It was cold, and the mountains were creepy at night. Hadn't Lance said not to go close to them? It was too late for that.

"Charla," Meredy said suddenly, her voice cutting softly through the dark, "do you think I'm selfish?"

Charla stared. The question was so strange, so abrupt, that she wondered for a second if she'd misheard. Meredy just waited patiently for an answer.

"Um... No." Charla shuffled her paws in the grass. "I don't think so. Why?"

A whispery sigh left Meredy's lips. "...Never mind. I'm just being silly."

She stood up and Charla scrambled to do the same, slipping on the grass.

"But why would you think you're selfish?" Charla insisted, staring at her face through the gloom. Her eyes were downcast; once again, her thoughts looked like they were someplace far away.

Meredy swayed a little, averting her gaze. "It's just... All I've ever done is ask for help. Isn't that right? Ever since I met you, all I've done is ask you for help. When we met and I was sick, when we were travelling and I wanted protection, when I lost Nuala... I've only ever—"

She broke off abruptly and swivelled her head around, her body tensing. Charla tensed, too. The strangeness of Meredy's words fled quickly from her head.

Something was wrong.

"What is it?" Charla whispered.

Meredy's eyes searched the darkness, her brow furrowed. "I thought I heard something. Or...sensed something. I don't know."

The back of Charla's neck prickled. "What did you hear?"

Even the jackals down in the gully seemed to have tensed—like they were listening, too. But listening for what?

Meredy just shook her head, and together they stared into the darkness of the craggy foothills. Charla's eyes darted into the shadows between rocky outcrops, looking for something that she couldn't see. Her scales prickled coldly, and suddenly she had the distinct feeling that they weren't alone anymore. Something was out there in the darkness—watching them.

She swallowed.

"Let's go back," she whispered.

Meredy made no response.

"Let's go back, Meredy," Charla insisted. "Lance and Nuala are probably waiting for us."

Meredy shifted, still gazing away into the darkness. "I guess we should..."

But no sooner had she lifted a paw did something happen. Down in the gully, the jackals froze and their heads shot up; Charla could see their wide eyes glinting silver in the moonlight. And like prey before a predator, with all the grace of liquid darkness, they scattered and fled into the shadows. They were gone in an instant, leaving no trace behind.

A cold thrill raced down Charla's spine.

Something was here. Something was nearby. The jackals had seen it and they had run, as if it was dangerous—as if it meant them harm.

They had to go.

"Meredy—"

Meredy gasped. Charla flinched back, flaring her wings out. And then something landed heavily behind her, shaking the ground on which she stood, and Charla screamed and whirled around.

" _There_ you two are! What do you think you're doing out here?"

Charla almost melted with relief. Lance. It was just Lance. He glowered down at them, his face shadowed in the darkness, but Charla had never felt more like hugging him. It wasn't a monster. It was just Lance.

"How did you find us?" she asked breathlessly, her heart thundering in her chest. Meredy stood stiff and shell-shocked beside her.

"I thought I saw you following the river earlier," Lance grunted. "And I got your windwhisper, Meredy—I thought you might need a lift back to the cottage."

Meredy just nodded, as if her voice had fled from her. Charla inhaled and exhaled slowly, trying to calm herself. They were safe. Lance was here. And now they could go back. But still the back of her neck prickled, as if her body knew that there was something lurking in the darkness of the mountains behind her—something she hadn't seen—something that wasn't Lance.

"And didn't I tell you to stay away from the mountains?" Lance said to Charla, his voice grim.

Her cheeks flushed with heat. "W-well, if I had, I wouldn't have found Meredy!"

He scowled, but he seemed to have no rebuttal for that. Shaking his head, he turned slightly, proffering his shoulder to Meredy. "Come on, get on. Let's get back to the cottage before anything actually happens. Nuala will be waiting there by now."

With another wordless nod, Meredy clambered onto his back, and Charla followed him in leaping off the hill and back into the sky. They took wing over the Aspen River, its shadowy banks now deserted of jackals. Charla looked, but they were well and truly gone. As the chill winds began to carry them back towards the outskirts of Earthsoul, Lance spoke into the silence.

"We've got something to talk about when we get back, Meredy. Nuala's got something to say to you. It's important."

Meredy shook with a visible shiver, her crest of fur rippling in the wind. But she didn't seem surprised—in fact, the tension seemed to drain from her body, as if she had been waiting for this for too long and finally it had come. She bowed her head. "...I see."

She said nothing more.

Lance flew on, beating his wings strongly. "Just remember that you have a voice, too. Don't let her make all the decisions for you."

But Meredy made no other response. As they soared away from the foothills, Charla couldn't help glancing back over her shoulder. Her scales were still prickling, as if to tell her they were being watched, as if to tell her that the unseen monster in the shadows had not just been a figment of her imagination. But she saw nothing—until the clouds shifted and moonlight glinted off something down below, between the crags of rock down in the gully. A shimmer of blue-grey, like the jewelled scales of an enormous fish.

The breath froze in her lungs. But then it was gone, swallowed in an instant by the darkness of night, and Charla was left to wonder if it had even been there at all.

* * *

 **A/N: Hi. I'm back. I don't want to yak too much, but I just wanted to let you know what's going on.**

 **In short, this story has been one enormous struggle from the moment I started writing it and I haven't even reached the tenth chapter yet. There has been a disgusting amount of rewrites already, and that's why it's taken me so long to post chapters here. I'm not really sure why I'm having so much trouble, and I'm sorry if so far it has been a disappointing continuation of Firelight. I'm trying my best to get my writing up to a standard that I desire, and I want to give you a story that you all will enjoy. It's just been very difficult.**

 **Whatever the case, I think I've almost reached the point where I can stop rewriting endlessly and finally make progress again. I just hope what I've written so far is good enough.**

 **Thanks so much for reading; I hope you enjoy it. And thank you thank you to everyone who has left such nice and/or helpful reviews so far. It really means a lot to me. If I don't reply, it's just because I don't know what else to say other than to babble 'thank yous' at you. Your support is invaluable.**

 **See you next chapter! Hopefully in less than a month this time.**


	6. Snake in the Wind

**Chapter 6**

 **Snake in the Wind**

"I already know."

Those were the first words that Meredy spoke, when they had all gathered in the cottage and Charla had lit another fire to chase the darkness away. She spoke while Nuala was still struggling to find the right words—trying hopelessly to find a way to break it to her gently—and that was all she said. Everyone went silent. Even Lance looked taken aback.

For a long second, Nuala just stared. Her mouth moved, but no words came out. Then an odd strangled noise broke from her throat.

"How..." she finally stammered. "But...you– Why didn't you– _How_?"

Meredy's eyes were unbearably sad, but she didn't look away. "I heard you. That night before we left for the Arid Lands? When you talked to Charla about it... I heard. I couldn't sleep."

"You..." Nuala faltered, her wings trembling. "You've known this whole time? Why didn't you _say_ anything?"

Charla gazed breathlessly at Meredy, her head ringing. This wasn't what she had expected. But if Meredy really had known all along, then... Then...

Inside her muddled brain, things began to fall into place.

That was why Meredy had been so tense and upset. She hadn't suspected something was wrong—she'd _known_.

"Because I wanted you to tell me!" Meredy exclaimed, and her eyes were suddenly bright and glossy. "I thought you'd _want_ to talk to me about it! I thought you might not even make up your mind until you talked to me. I thought...I thought you'd _tell_ me. I never meant to eavesdrop. I waited, and I waited... And you told me nothing."

Her voice broke, but she carried on. "I started to think you weren't going to tell me at all. I thought I'd...I'd wake up one morning and find you gone. Just gone. No goodbyes or anything..."

Meredy shook her head, her eyes glistening. "Why, Nuala?"

"I didn't want to upset you," Nuala said weakly. "I didn't know how to say it. But I would never have left without saying goodbye! Surely you know that?"

Meredy closed her eyes and shook her head again, as if her voice had failed her.

Nuala edged closer, her paws moving soundlessly across the dusty stone floor. "I'm sorry I didn't talk to you. But...there wasn't really anything to talk about. I'd already—"

"Made up your mind?" Meredy finished for her, hoarsely. "I see. I suppose there was nothing I could have said to make you change your mind... You were going to leave no matter what I did."

Her voice broke at the end of her words, and she uttered a quiet choked sound. With a shuddering gasp, she bowed her head—but Charla saw the tears that rolled off the edge of her jaw and glinted in the firelight as they fell. Her shoulders shook. Then her whole body trembled with a raw sob, and a spasm of anger flitted across her face.

"I'm so _stupid_ ," Meredy choked, swiping the back of her paw across her eyes. "I knew I—I knew I'd start crying. This al- _always_ happens. I _hate_ it. _Why_?"

Nuala lifted a paw. "Meredy..."

"Why?" Meredy demanded, whipping her head up, her face crumpling. "Why are you leaving me like this? Did I do something wrong? Are you sick of me? Am I too selfish? What did I _do_?"

"It's not like that!" Nuala leapt up with an effortless beat of her wings, rising to Meredy's head-height. "You haven't _done_ anything. Our paths are just...taking us in different directions. I can't go with you to Mistral anymore. There's just... There are other things I want."

"And I can't possibly help you with any of those things, can I?" Meredy's throat bobbed and her jaw trembled.

Nuala just gazed at her sadly. "I can't ask you to. You belong in Mistral. I can't take you away from that."

"Apparently you can't take me _there_ , either."

Nuala drew back, her ears twitching with surprise, and even Charla flinched. The sudden venom in Meredy's voice was unlike anything she had ever heard from the gentle sky serpent, and so was the twisting anguish she could see in her eyes. Lance shifted slightly, looking uncomfortable. Meredy took a shuddering breath.

"Merry—" Nuala started, but she got no further.

"I don't want to talk about this right now," Meredy cut in sharply, her voice catching. "Let's just...just sleep. I don't want to—"

"Meredy, we _need_ to—"

"I can't do it right now, Nuala!" she snapped, and her body shook with another soundless sob. "I don't want to talk about it! I've had enough! _Please_!"

Nuala's wingbeats faltered, and she descended slowly back to earth. Charla glanced nervously at Lance, who returned a grim look—and silence fell, broken only by Meredy's shaking breaths and the quiet crackling of Charla's flames. Meredy closed her eyes and bowed her head.

"Okay," Nuala said in a small voice. "We'll talk about it in the morning. Let's just...get some sleep. We've had a long day."

Nobody responded—at least, not in words. Charla curled a little more comfortably on her cushion, wrapped her tail around herself, and watched as everyone awkwardly settled down for the night. Lance flopped onto the cushions next to her and laid his head down without a word. Part of her was surprised that he had nothing to say, but maybe he too realised that this was not his argument—that he had no part in it.

Instead of curling up with Nuala like she usually did, Meredy turned her back on all of them and lay down on the other side of the cottage, close to the door, where there was nothing but hard and dusty floor to sleep on. After a moment's hesitation, Nuala grabbed the nearest cushion, flew over, and dropped it at Meredy's paws. She did not receive a 'thank you.'

Then, looking oddly deflated, Nuala fluttered into another corner of the room and buried herself in her tail and wings. Charla eyed her anxiously, until Lance nudged her.

"You can put that out now," he murmured, and Charla remembered her fire.

Reluctantly, she reached out a paw and gathered the little ball of flame close to her chest. With a feeble flicker and a tiny tongue of smoke, it faded and died—and all four of them were once again plunged into darkness.

* * *

The next day, they did not leave Earthsoul. All of them slept late again, and when they awoke, Charla went with Lance down to the river without saying much at all to Nuala or Meredy. The tension in the cottage made her feel twitchy and heavy. She was glad to leave it.

As she paddled in the shallows of the Aspen River and washed the dust from her scales, Lance spoke to her.

"I think we should hang around for a while," he said, gazing thoughtfully towards the mountains. "Not long—a day or two, maybe three at most. It'll give those two a chance to get themselves together, and give us a chance to catch our breath. I don't think I'm ready to head out again yet."

Charla hummed thoughtfully and frowned at her own reflection rippling in the surface of the river. Her cherry-red scales were bright and shimmering against the backdrop of a cloudy grey sky. The threat of rain hung heavy in the air.

As much as she wanted to get moving, Lance's words rang true. Her wings, too, were still stiff and achy from the long flight across the Arid Lands, and she didn't know what to feel about Nuala and Meredy. Maybe a few extra days to think and rest would do them all good. It probably wouldn't be good weather for travelling today, anyway.

"I guess that works," she said, turning a slow circle in the water. She looked up at him. "But no more than three days, okay?"

"Don't worry. There's no point hanging around for longer." Lance gave her a small smile and then hauled himself up onto the river bank, water streaming off his scales.

Charla jumped after him and shook herself, then shivered in the chill breeze. Together, they started back along the path into the outskirts of Earthsoul. They walked in silence for a short while, their paws crunching in the debris across the road, and Charla's thoughts began to wander into the dark and anxious corners of her mind.

After what had happened last night, she didn't know what to think. Everything was a mess. She still wanted Nuala to come with them, but now the thought of it made her stomach squirm as if it was filled with worms.

Was it really the right thing to do?

Would things be better if Nuala didn't come?

Was all of this _her_ fault, because she hadn't told Nuala _no_?

She wanted to ask Lance what he thought, but she knew it would be pointless. Charla already knew what he thought—what his answer would be—and she didn't want to hear it. Because as guilty as she felt, she still wanted Nuala to come. She didn't want her to go with Meredy.

If only, she thought miserably, Meredy could come with them too. But why would she? She was so close to Mistral now—what more could she need?

Maybe, Charla thought with a sudden twinge of bitterness, Meredy was just being greedy. She didn't really _need_ Nuala to go with her. It wasn't like she was _that_ far from Mistral; she _could_ make it on her own. So why did she have to be so upset and teary-eyed about it? It was so _frustrating_. If it wasn't for her, there wouldn't even be a problem.

Then a shiver rolled down the back of Charla's neck, and she stopped that nasty little train of thought before it could go any further. No... She didn't really think that. None of this was Meredy's fault. It was no one's fault. It was just...

It just _was_.

With a huff, Charla aimed a kick at a small rock on the side of the road and watched it bounce away across the dirt.

Lance looked at her. "Feeling mad, are we?"

" _No_ ," Charla said mulishly, and kicked another rock. This one bounced and clattered into the side of a crumbled cottage wall, creating a satisfying echo.

"You can end this, you know," Lance said. "Nuala will listen to you. All you have to do is tell her she can't come with us."

Charla scowled and swiped at the road, sending a cloud of dust and tiny pebbles scattering into the air. "But I don't _want_ to. I want her to come."

"More than you care about Meredy?"

His voice was calm and even, but it cut through her like a knife nonetheless. She hissed through her teeth and turned her head away. "I don't _know_."

Why did this have to be so _hard_?

"I wish they could both come," Charla mumbled under her breath. She heard Lance sigh.

"There isn't always an easy way out. Take your time. Think about it. You'll make the right decision." Then he brushed her shoulder with the edge of his wing and walked on, even though she'd halted in the middle of the road.

Feeling worse than before, her stomach tight with guilt, Charla stood for a long moment amongst the dust and debris, listening to his pawsteps moving away from her.

The right decision. What _was_ the right decision?

Was there even a 'right' decision at all?

Charla wished she knew. Shaking herself, she jerked her head up and scampered after Lance, kicking up dust as she went. Just as she caught up to him, she saw someone else walking along the road towards them. Meredy was up, and she was alone. Charla eyed her warily. She didn't look like she'd had a pleasant conversation with Nuala while they'd been gone.

"How are you feeling?" Lance greeted as she approached, halting in the centre of the street.

Meredy didn't seem to want to meet his eyes. She averted her gaze ever so slightly, so that she was looking at his shoulder instead. "I'm okay. I'm just going to wash up."

Hesitantly, she glanced at Charla, looked quickly away, and took a few steps down the road. Lance turned his head to follow her.

"You can talk to us if you need to," he said. "Both of us. You're not on your own."

Meredy closed her eyes and mumbled something under her breath—Charla thought it sounded like 'not yet...' but she wasn't sure. Aloud, however, she thanked Lance and then paused.

"I'm...sorry about last night," she murmured without facing them. "I overreacted a little. I was...tired."

Then, with a hesitant breath—as if there was more she wanted to say but decided against it—she moved on. Charla and Lance watched her go, until her pale serpentine form was all but lost from view amongst the sandy stone cottages. Lance hummed grimly and started walking again. Charla scurried after him, feeling all sorts of muddled and uncertain.

Minutes later, they found Nuala perched over the threshold of their cottage, preening her feathers and looking grumpy. She gave them both a stormy look as they approached, and Charla knew immediately that she and Meredy had argued again.

"What's the plan?" Nuala called down to them, sounding no more pleased than she looked. "Shall we head off?"

Charla almost opened her mouth to ask _'What about Meredy?'_ but changed her mind. She didn't want to make Nuala mad—clearly they hadn't reconciled yet.

"Not for a few days, yet," Lance replied instead. "We've decided we're going to rest for a day or three. We're still tired from crossing the desert—and you still need to sort things out with Meredy."

"There's nothing _to_ sort out," Nuala shot back, her fur bristling. "She either accepts it or she doesn't."

"Or you can decide _not_ to abandon her in the middle of nowhere."

"Lance..." Charla muttered nervously, but he ignored her.

Nuala's lip twitched. "Shut your face, Lance. It's got nothing to do with you."

His eyes glinted. "It's got plenty to do with me, seeing as I'm going to be stuck with you if you don't give up on this stupid idea."

"Well, I can't say I'm happy to wake up to your ugly mug every morning, either. Maybe _you_ should go with Meredy since you're so hung up about it."

"Of course you'd try to push your responsibilities onto someone else. Anyone would think you don't give a damn about your friends. Oh wait—you don't."

"Go drown yourself," Nuala spat. Then she leapt off her perch and darted into the air, leaving without another word.

Charla huffed and glared at Lance. "What was that for? You just made her angry!"

"Why? Because I said the truth?" He snorted and shouldered his way through the door and into the cottage. "It's her own fault if she can't handle it. She's the one who treats us like we're disposable—like she can throw us away when she doesn't need us anymore. I'm not here to coddle her."

Shaking his head, he let the door swing shut behind him, leaving Charla standing alone outside. She glared at the closed door for several long seconds, unwilling to follow. This was all so stupid. If this was how the next few days in Earthsoul were going to go then they couldn't pass fast enough.

With a short sigh, she pressed her forehead against the door and pushed it open.

* * *

To Charla's surprise, Nuala returned only a short few hours later. Only she and Lance were in the cottage at the time, and Lance was poring over the map with a furrow in his brow. Charla, meanwhile, had her nose buried in her new book—but she looked up when the door creaked.

There was a tense sort of silence. Nuala hovered for a moment in front of the door, eying them hesitantly, and then descended in front of them and folded her wings. There was a hard look about her slender face.

"I've been thinking about what you said," she started, looking mostly at Lance.

He cocked an eyebrow. "That's a surprise. Do me a favour and tell me you've changed your mind."

Charla clenched her paws together on top of her book.

Nuala's expression didn't change. "No. I'm still coming with you. But Meredy won't be going to Mistral alone—I'm going to take her into Earthsoul instead."

Lance didn't look relieved about this new information at all. On the contrary, his scowl deepened and he seemed about to say something, but Charla beat him to it.

"You're going to leave her there?" she asked. She couldn't pretend that didn't surprise her. Nuala had been so adamant before that Meredy could make it to Mistral on her own. Why change her mind now?

"It's the best option we have," Nuala insisted, as if she thought Charla's words had been in protest. "She'll be safe there, even without us, and—"

"And what about Mistral?" Lance cut in with a disapproving scowl. "I thought you wanted to help her get home—not leave her behind in a half-destroyed dragon city."

"It's the best I can do!" Nuala snapped, her fur bristling. "You're just not going to be satisfied with anything I suggest, are you? Look, I'm sure she can find _someone_ in that city who can take her to Mistral. That puma—Charla, you said he told you that a lot of dragons went there after Earthsoul was attacked?"

Charla nodded dumbly, wondering why she hadn't thought of this before. Of course... Leaving Meredy in Earthsoul didn't mean leaving her there forever—one way or another, there had to be someone in the city who could get her safely to Mistral.

"Surely there are others who want to go to Mistral and haven't gone yet," said Nuala, echoing Charla's thoughts. "Meredy can go with them. I mean, it might be a while before she gets there, but it's not like she's going to be stuck in Earthsoul forever."

Lance considered her for a moment, as if trying to find a good reason to argue, and finally he muttered, "Have you talked to her about this yet?"

Nuala hesitated. "Well, yeah, of course. I just talked to her."

"And? What did she think?"

Her ears swivelled back and she averted her eyes. "I mean, you know how she is... Anything that forces her to talk to strangers makes her nervous. But it's the best plan we've got, so it's either that or—"

"Or you take her to Mistral yourself, like you said that you would," Lance growled.

"Would you stop?" Nuala snapped, lashing her tail. "It's not happening and I'm not changing my mind—but I'm _trying_ to come up with a compromise! She'll be safe there! She won't have to be out in the wilds on her own! She'll get someone to take her to Mistral! So what's your problem?"

"You're still abandoning her! You're just pawning her off onto someone else because you can't be bothered with her anymore!" Lance curled his lip. "Excuse me if that doesn't sit right with me. I would think you'd treat your friends better than that."

Nuala scoffed loudly, her eyes flashing, and Charla shrank back. Not this again. She didn't want to be here for this.

"Why are you so intent on making me the villain?" Nuala cried, flaring her wings out. "I've done my best! I protected her; I saved her; I got her this far! So what if I can't do anything more for her? Neither can you! _You_ aren't willing to give up everything to help her, either! You—!"

" _We_ weren't the ones who promised to get her to Mistral," Lance snarled. "If you don't want me to see you like a villain, then maybe you shouldn't go around abandoning your friends when you get a better offer."

Nuala sneered at him. "I'm not _abandoning_ her. I've gotten her to a safe place where she can find her own way to Mistral without my help. I've given her options."

"You don't know that this is a safe place!" Lance spat, jerking his wing angrily towards the window and the imposing wall of Earthsoul in the near distance. "You don't know that they'll treat her well or that they'll even want to take her to Mistral! They might throw her into an orphanage like they did to me and Charla in Warfang. She might never get to Mistral! But you don't care about any of that. All you care about is getting what _you_ want—"

"I know!" Nuala gritted her teeth. "I know it's not a perfect solution! Look— _I_ don't want to leave her in Earthsoul. _I_ think she's perfectly capable of getting there on her own. But you don't think so. And, well, to be honest... Meredy doesn't really think so, either. So this is the best I can come up with."

Lance narrowed his eyes and started to open his mouth, but Nuala forged on before he could retort.

"And it can't be that bad," she said, with a nervous look at Charla. "She's a sky serpent—she belongs with other sky serpents, and all you dragons know it. The dragons at Earthsoul will help her. I'm sure of it."

Lance clenched his jaw and did not reply, but he glowered at Nuala with no less intensity. As a charged silence fell, Charla twiddled her claws.

"I think it's a good idea," she said in a small voice. "It means she won't have to be alone, right? So she'll be safe... And we won't have to worry about her."

Lance looked at her, his eyes hard as stone, but all he did was shake his head. As his gaze returned to the map between his paws, he muttered, "I'm not arguing about this anymore. Clearly we're not going to agree."

"You're the only one being contrary," Nuala grumbled, and he glared at her.

"And Meredy?" he growled. "I'm sure she's _perfectly happy_ about being left behind in Earthsoul."

Nuala scowled and looked away, silenced. Charla swallowed dryly.

Lance sighed and folded the map up, then slipped it back into the pocket of his new satchel. "Whatever the case, we're not leaving for a few days. So you two have plenty of time to think about what you're doing—and change your minds. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going for a walk."

Averting his eyes, he stood up and walked out the door, leaving both of them gazing after him.

Charla looked at Nuala.

"He's going to talk to Meredy, isn't he?" Nuala grunted.

Charla twisted her tail. "Yeah...probably."

Nuala hissed through her teeth and sat down heavily by Charla's side, looping her tail over her paws. "He just doesn't give a damn, does he? No matter what I suggest, he's gonna hate it because _I_ said it. I don't know how you put up with him sometimes, Char."

Charla clenched her paws and looked down. Hearing Lance spoken about like that made her feel strange—conflicted—as if half of her wanted to hear it and the rest of her writhed with annoyance. Even if he was a boneheaded jerk sometimes...he was still Lance.

And was _he_ really the problem?

She squirmed and glanced at Nuala. "He's just worried. He..." She hesitated. "Do you really think we're doing the right thing?"

Nuala glowered at her. "Don't, Char. Don't let him get to you. We've already made our choice—and both of us know that Meredy is going to be fine, whether she goes to Mistral alone or not. She doesn't need us."

"I know, but..."

Nuala's paw pressed down on top of hers, warm and furry against her scales. Her eyes pierced through Charla like chips of ice. "We can do this, Charla. You and me. No matter what anyone says, _I've_ made my choice. And I'm going to go through with it. I just need you with me."

Breathless, trapped by Nuala's stare, Charla could only nod. Because she'd known that already. She'd known long before this, before they'd even stepped foot into the Arid Lands, that both of them had already made their choice—and nothing, not even Lance, not even Meredy, was going to change that.

* * *

Two days passed in that little abandoned cottage at the edge of Earthsoul. During this time, a number of things happened.

For one, Nuala and Meredy began to avoid each other. Meredy, it quickly became apparent, did not like the idea of staying in Earthsoul any more than she liked the idea of going to Mistral alone—and any attempts made to sort things out between them just ended in arguments and tears.

Nuala, meanwhile, stubbornly refused to even think about changing her mind, and Lance became steadily more irritable with both her and Charla. He was the only one who seemed to be able to coax anything out of Meredy, who had started to retreat further into her own shell and almost stopped talking altogether. And Charla had her own problems.

She felt, suddenly, like she was being pulled in two directions at once. Lance wanted one thing, Nuala wanted another, and both of them expected her to listen to them. The problem was, she didn't really disagree with either of them. She wanted Nuala to come with them, but she didn't want Meredy to be left behind alone—she wanted Meredy to get safely to Mistral, but she didn't want Nuala to go with her. It was enough to give her a perpetual headache.

Overwhelmed by so many conflicting voices in and outside of her head, Charla spent a lot of this downtime escaping into the pages of her new book.

 _Star Tales_ was full of all manner of weird and wonderful stories. Some were strange and silly—and perhaps a little unnerving—like the one about the snow leopard that fell in love with a dragon and gave birth to a monstrous creature called a tatzelwyrm, a terrible hybrid that breathed toxic fumes and exuded venom; or the one about the magisiccus, a leech that would suck a dragon dry of all mana and render it unable to use magic ever again. But there were others that made her stop and think.

"Did you know," she'd say to Lance, unable to help herself, "that the world was created by a huge golem called Mana and dragons stole magic from her by eating the crystals on her back, and that's how they got their first elements?"

"Yes, kid, I know," he'd say, with the sort of tone that suggested she was trying his patience. "I grew up with these fairy tales, you know."

"Well, I didn't. How come you never told me about them?"

"Because they're kid's stories. Why would I tell you kid's stories? We've had more important things to do."

" _Still_. ...Hey, did you know that sky serpents used to be dragons? But then they got wind magic after they stole Mana's crystals, and they lost their wings because they didn't need them anymore, and—"

"I _know_ , kid. Don't forget they're only stories. It doesn't mean they're true."

Charla huffed at this. "Nuala says all stories borrow real facts. So they _could_ be true."

"Bits and pieces, maybe," Lance grumbled.

But as captivated as Charla was, stories about magic and adventure could only keep her distracted for so long. Time crawled by, and nothing seemed to change. Nuala and Meredy did not reconcile. Lance kept prodding and poking her about talking to Nuala, much to her rising ire. Nuala did not change her mind. And for two whole days, no plans were made to leave that tiny cottage at the edge of the city outskirts.

During this time, as per Lance's wishes, Charla stayed reluctantly away from the wall of Earthsoul and the lively city beyond it, for fear that the guards would see and apprehend her. Sometimes she saw pumas and the occasional dragon coming and going—hunters, from the looks of it—but, for the most part, the abandoned outskirts of the city remained just that: empty and lifeless.

Charla was bored and anxious. She wanted to _leave_ already. She wanted everything to go back to normal.

But it didn't, and she wasn't the only one who was restless.

In the late morning of the third day, while out for a bit of fresh air, Charla came across Meredy wandering on the banks of the Aspen River. This was the first time they'd been alone together since that night in the mountains, and Charla was immediately uncomfortable. She'd hardly heard Meredy talk at all these past few days, apart from an overheard whisper here and there about whether or not Nuala thought she was a burden.

For a long awkward moment, they just stood together in silence. With a sinking feeling, Charla found herself thinking about something Nuala had said to her only that morning.

 _"Meredy won't talk to me anymore, but maybe she'll listen to you. C'mon, Char, help a fox out. I don't want to part with her on bad terms—and we can't hang around forever waiting for her to open up. She just clams up when she's upset. Just try talking to her a little, yeah?"_

Charla didn't think that would make anything better, but Nuala was insistent—and Charla didn't have the heart to turn her down. Now that she and Meredy were alone, however, she regretted it. She didn't even know _what_ to say.

And what if Meredy realised that Nuala had put her up to this? What if she got mad?

Lance already disapproved. Charla had seen him glowering at her shortly after speaking with Nuala, and she was pretty sure he'd overheard. He was already annoyed because she still refused to change her mind about Nuala, so that probably hadn't helped matters.

Charla sighed. Why did everyone expect _her_ to do everything? It was Nuala's choice, not hers. It wasn't fair.

She was so preoccupied with these thoughts—and staring unhappily at her own reflection in the river—that she almost jumped when Meredy spoke.

"Do you think you'll leave tomorrow?"

Charla jerked her head up and saw that Meredy was gazing misty-eyed towards the mountains. Something in her chest twisted. "I dunno... Maybe? Lance hasn't said anything."

"You want to go, though, don't you?" Meredy murmured, turning her eyes on Charla.

"Well...yeah. I guess." Charla curled her tail and looked away. She couldn't very well say to Meredy that she really, _really_ wanted to go already. That would just upset her.

But she really _did_ want to leave. She wished Lance would just hurry up and say it was time to go. Inwardly, she made a note to poke him about it later. Since when had she relied on _him_ to make all the decisions anyway?

Before she could explore that line of thinking any further, Meredy broke the momentary silence.

"Does Nuala really need to go with you?"

Charla stared at her. There was more curiosity than bitterness in Meredy's voice, but the question still made her squirm. Lance had been asking—and answering—that question a lot too, and Charla hated it.

"I don't know," she mumbled, glowering at her reflection again. "But she _wants_ to come. It's her choice."

Meredy said nothing for a short uncomfortable moment, and for a few seconds only the river murmured quietly alongside them.

"Then...do you think she'll be helpful to you?" she asked finally, in a very small voice.

Charla perked up. Lance had never asked her _that_ question. "W-Well, yeah! I don't know how we'd do it without her!"

Then she shivered, because that was the first time she'd admitted that to anyone, even herself. Without Nuala, she didn't know how she would get into the Well of Souls and rescue two potentially weak and injured apes. But _with_ Nuala... It could be as easy as getting in and out of Earthsoul.

"I see..." Meredy said, and a strange wistful look came over her as she gazed into the distance.

Charla looked up at her, and for the first time she felt like Meredy might be starting to accept it—to accept that it was time to let Nuala go. After all, it wasn't really that far to Mistral, and the dragons of Earthsoul would surely be able to help her get there. In the end, she really didn't need Nuala as much as Charla did. Maybe, hopefully, she was starting to realise that.

But Charla said none of this aloud, and it was almost a whole minute before Meredy spoke again. When she did, there was a sort of heaviness to her voice.

"How well do you feel like you know Nuala?" She glanced at Charla and looked away again, and now a sadness entered the wistful look in her eyes. She didn't wait for a response. "I thought I knew everything there was to know about her... I thought she could never surprise me. But then...at Pyreflight... I don't know anymore. After what happened there, I—I started to think maybe I never really knew her at all. Maybe all I ever saw was...what I wanted to see."

Meredy closed her eyes and sighed into the air. Unsure how to respond, Charla stayed silent. She didn't like to think about what had happened in Pyreflight—about Nuala and what she had done there. It made her chest hurt and her head ache.

But she wanted to trust Nuala, and so she did. And she was pretty sure she knew Nuala quite well—maybe not as well as she knew Lance, but enough to trust her and like her and want her to come along.

"Sorry," Meredy said, opening her eyes again. "All this probably sounds weird to you. I just don't know what to think anymore."

"Why?" Charla asked, and Meredy looked at her.

"Because..." She hesitated. "Because I never thought Nuala would do this. I thought... I thought we'd _always_ be together. I really believed that." With a shaky sigh, she bowed her head. "But I was wrong. What else am I wrong about? What else didn't I understand? What else..."

As she trailed off, a thread of guilt wormed its way around Charla's heart. She shifted and pawed at her own scales, wracking her brains for something to say—to make Meredy feel better. The wind whistled mournfully around her head.

"Nuala still likes you," Charla finally said, because it was the only thing she could think of. "She, um...she still wants talk to you. I mean—she said she doesn't want to part on bad terms. So, she still wants to be your friend. You just..."

"We just want different things," Meredy finished for her, and there was a heavy sort of acceptance in her voice. "I know. Nuala keeps saying that. I _understand_. I just..."

She shook her head and murmured something under her breath that Charla didn't catch. Then, with another sigh, she turned and walked away, leaving the river for the dusty roads of Earthsoul's deserted ruins. She'd only taken a few steps before she looked back at Charla.

"Thanks for listening," she said, a little stiffly. "It helps. ...I hope Nuala will be happy with you."

And then she walked on, leaving Charla almost no time to call a response after her. But she did anyway, unable to help herself.

"Are you angry with her?" she cried out, her voice echoing through the empty streets.

Meredy did not turn or respond. She just walked on, and Charla was left gazing after her with a heavy stone in her stomach. Her wings drooped.

"Are you angry with me?" she asked instead.

But her voice was small and quiet, and Meredy could not have heard.

Charla did not see Meredy again for the rest of the day, most of which she spent in the cottage reading _Star Tales,_ having whispered conversations with Nuala, and trying to dodge Lance's probing questions. He hadn't reacted well when Charla had prodded him about leaving tomorrow—it clearly wasn't going to happen—and he still seemed to be under the impression that Charla was the only reason Nuala hadn't changed her mind.

"Look—the sooner those two work this out, the sooner we can leave," he finally snapped, thumping his paw down on top of the map he'd laid out on the floor. "I need you to cooperate with me here."

With an angry huff, Charla flipped her book shut and glared at him. "Talk to her yourself, then! It's not my fault! Nuala wants to come, so she's coming—and that's that. You're the one who's holding us back."

Lance's eyes turned steely, and Charla suddenly wished that Nuala was still in the room. She'd left a little while ago—probably because Lance kept glaring at her.

"I'm trying," he said darkly, "to figure this out so that everyone is as safe and happy as possible. Meredy doesn't deserve to be stranded in Earthsoul—not when Nuala is perfectly capable of taking her to Mistral herself. We shouldn't have to abandon her in some unfamiliar city just because Nuala thinks she's got a better offer now."

"It's not like that!" Charla snapped, thumping the floor with her tailblade. "She won't be stranded there—someone will help her get to Mistral! She doesn't _need_ Nuala."

"Neither do you!"

"I need her more than Meredy does!"

Lance's paw tensed on top of the map. "Don't you care that you're abandoning her? She's going to be left behind, all on her own, because her friends just couldn't be bothered with her anymore—imagine how she feels! But clearly you and Nuala don't care about that."

"Of course I care!" Charla said hotly. "Nuala cares, too! But we can't do anything to help her now. If Meredy could just come with us—"

"Not everyone is going to drop everything and follow you, Charla! The world doesn't work like that—it doesn't revolve around you. How would you like it if Meredy begged you to go to Mistral with her? In fact, we _could_ do that. It would be better and safer than anything else we can possibly do in this situation. We could all go there and live normal _safe_ lives and ride out the war..." He paused for a heartbeat of a second, while Charla glared at his stony face. "But of course you don't want that."

"No," Charla muttered, her face hot. "I don't."

"But Meredy does want that," he said stiffly. "So don't think about taking that away from her."

"I'm not!" Charla snapped, bristling now. "I'm just _saying_ , if you don't want her to be left behind, then she has to come with us! So _you're_ the one who—"

"Don't blame this on me," snapped Lance. "You and Nuala are the ones refusing to compromise. You just want everything your way, even if it hurts someone else. Maybe if you stopped thinking about yourself for half a second, you might realise that this _isn't right_. This isn't fair to Meredy. Imagine if we all decided to get up and abandon you instead. How do you think you'd feel about that?"

Charla's face burned like fire. Thinking about herself? Was _that_ what he thought? Did he really think she was so horrible and selfish?

This wasn't her fault! None of this was her fault!

Why did he always blame _her_?

Charla clenched her teeth. Something hot and spiky was clawing its way up from her chest—a blazing force that wanted to escape—and before she knew it, she was yelling. "Go with her, then! You obviously want to! All you ever do is blame me for everything and treat me like I'm some stupid kid! If I'm so bad, then leave! Go with Meredy and leave me alone! I'm obviously not good enough for you, since all I ever do is think about myself!"

But Lance did not rise to the bait. Instead of standing up and yelling at her, like she expected—like she wanted—he just gazed at her with those cold steel eyes and folded his paws tensely over the map.

"You know that's not what I want," he said quietly.

Charla's blood boiled. Somehow, his calmness just made her angrier. She wished he would yell and scream—wished he would blame and accuse her and give her a reason to use the anger rising in her veins. But he didn't, and her scales burned.

"Of course it is!" she heard herself crying, unable to keep it in. "You—you—you're always treating me like I'm just a dumb kid! You probably like Meredy better than me, don't you? You're... You're always blaming everything on me! You think all this is my fault!"

"All I want," murmured Lance, his eyes never leaving hers, "is for everyone to get what they need. I don't feel right about leaving Meredy any more than I would about abandoning you. And, yes, I'm frustrated. I feel like I'm the only one who cares about her. You and Nuala refuse to even think about changing your minds, and there's nothing else I can do. I just wish you'd at least act like you care."

"I do care! I do! But there's nothing I can do! It's not my choice!"

"Isn't it?" he asked quietly.

"No!" Charla snapped. "I don't know!"

Then she gritted her teeth and whirled around. As she stomped towards the door, Lance called after her.

"I'm just going for a walk," she snapped without turning to look at him. "Leave me alone."

There was a beat of silence. Charla pushed the door open.

"Don't be too long," she heard him say. "It'll be dark soon."

But then she stepped out, the door swung shut, and anything else he might have said was lost to her.

* * *

Charla wasn't even sure what she was doing. All she'd wanted was to get away from Lance—away from that dusty old cottage and those uncomfortable questions that she couldn't answer. But there was nothing to do out here. She couldn't just go; she couldn't just take flight over the mountains and into the sunset and leave all this behind like she wanted to.

She was stuck here, for now, in these empty streets with these empty houses, so far away from where she really wanted to be. So far away from Jayce.

Jayce would never argue with her.

Heaving a sigh, she dragged her paws down the quiet, dusty road. Weak evening sunlight crept feebly over her scales; it looked like the clouds were finally starting to move on. If only she was, too. Pouting, Charla kicked at loose rocks and wondered where Nuala had gone—she wanted to complain to someone, and Nuala was always happy to hear complaints about Lance.

Plus, Nuala was on her side, unlike everyone else. She would understand.

Charla scowled and kicked another rock, and watched it bounce ahead of her along the flat open street. Then something glared brightly in her eyes, and she realised it was the setting sun reflecting on the surface of the Aspen River. Maybe Nuala was over there.

She picked up her pace, trotting through the shadows of the cottages lining the road, but when she reached the riverbank there was no sign of Nuala. Sighing, Charla scuffed the patchy grass and looked around. It was so quiet here. Even when she closed her eyes and listened hard, all she could hear was the flowing river and the distant, barely audible buzz of indecipherable noise that came from the city beyond the wall. Charla had almost become used to that sound—the sound of life far away from her; life that she could not reach.

It made her feel terribly lonely.

Opening her eyes, she turned and gazed towards the sunlit mountains—and then almost jumped when a soft voice spoke close behind her.

"Charla? Were you looking for me?"

She whirled around. Meredy had come up behind her—so silently that Charla hadn't even heard her footsteps. Her fur crest looked a little windswept and she seemed tired. Charla floundered for a moment, thrown off by her sudden appearance, before she managed to find her voice.

"Uh, I was just... Have you been out here all day?" she blurted out, staring.

Meredy rolled her shoulders and looked away, her tail curling in like it always did when she was nervous or uncertain. "Here and there... I've had a lot to think about. Where have you been?"

Charla scowled at her own paws. "Nowhere. Just arguing with Lance. ...Nothing important."

There was a moment of silence, and then Meredy murmured, "I think Lance is very kind. But...he seems like he might snap if I say the wrong thing."

Charla just huffed under her breath. Meredy stepped a little closer.

"Do you want to walk with me?" she asked in a small voice. "I was going to go back to the cottage, but we can walk for a bit if it will help you feel better."

"I guess," Charla grumbled, because she couldn't think of anything else to do—and she didn't really have the heart to tell Meredy to leave her alone. If only Nuala had found her instead.

They set off in silence along the riverbank, following it upstream towards the mountains—and the awkwardness set in very quickly. Meredy didn't say anything, and Charla couldn't tell if she was comfortable with the quiet or if she was just too shy to speak up. Either way, the urge to break the silence grew and grew, until Charla finally blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"Are you mad with me? Because... I mean... It's kind of my fault that Nuala's...you know..."

She trailed off, feeling stupid and wishing she'd kept her mouth shut, but Meredy didn't make her wait long for an answer.

"I'm trying not to be," she murmured, not looking at Charla.

Charla eyed her warily, her heart sinking. "But...you are?"

Meredy exhaled softly. "I don't know, Charla... I know it's not your fault. You don't control Nuala any more than I do. But I just—I wish I knew why she decided to choose you over me..."

"It's not like that," Charla said quickly. "It's not about you or me. I bet she likes you better than me, anyway. It's just that...I'm sort of..."

"You have something to offer her that I don't." Meredy sighed and looked away. "I know. You're a dragon—you're brave and powerful and you have magic...and I don't. All I ever was to Nuala was a burden. I wish I'd realised that sooner."

A spark of irritation flared in Charla's chest. "That's not true. Nuala really likes you. And didn't you save her life once?"

"Once, I suppose... When we first met. But what have I done since then? I didn't even realise that she'd been so desperate all this time to get revenge on the apes. And I thought I was good at reading others..."

She trailed off, her eyes downcast, and Charla searched for something else to say, something to cheer her up. It was hard to deal with an unhappy Meredy. She just became very quiet, and Charla didn't like it at all. It was rather like talking to a dam, she thought—all stony-faced and unresponsive, until cracks started to show and out came the waterworks.

Everything was so messy now. Meredy and Nuala weren't speaking to each other and Charla was stuck between them, and even Lance didn't seem to be on her side. There was no one she could really _talk_ to. Bitterly, she found herself longing for those days before Warfang, when they had all been together and no one had been angry and she hadn't yet had that awful argument with Lance that had changed everything between them. But that time was long gone. And now, she had to deal with this—with a Lance who didn't really trust her, and two friends who refused to agree with each other.

And _still_ Charla didn't know what the right thing to do was. She felt like she was trapped inside her own head.

Maybe everything would be better if she was alone again.

She shuddered at the thought.

Grimacing, Charla let her eyes wander across the land ahead, looking for something else to talk about. They'd come further from the city outskirts than she'd realised. The craggy foothills of the mountains rose and fell around them in rugged waves of grass and stone, and the river galloped merrily down towards them, sparkling in the fading light. It was close to nightfall.

"I wonder if there are jackals around," Charla said absentmindedly, gazing along the river. This was where she had seen them last time, but there was no sign of them now. Maybe they only came out when it was dark.

"I saw a few last night," Meredy said. "It's not late enough for them now. They're probably sleeping."

For some reason, the idea of jackals sleeping sounded strange to Charla. They seemed so unearthly—as if they shouldn't need to eat or drink or sleep like normal creatures. Distractedly, she followed the river further into the foothills, wondering if she could find them. Meredy trailed after her.

"Maybe we should head back. The sun will go down soon."

"In a bit," Charla said, hardly listening. She didn't want to go back to that dingy old cottage yet—back to Lance and Nuala and all of that tension. It was so much nicer out here. She wanted to at least see another jackal. She hadn't had any more dreams about them since that night in the Arid Lands, and some small part of her—that bored, impatient piece of her mind that longed for adventure—almost wanted to.

Up to the top of a rocky slope they climbed, and then down into the narrow gully beyond, where the river ran between the trees. But still there were no jackals. Meredy's steps were becoming more hesitant. The sun was beginning to set.

Finally, as they crossed the gully and found themselves facing a steep climb up to the crest of the next hill, Charla realised they should probably go back. They were supposed to be resting, anyway, not exerting themselves. That was the whole point of staying at Earthsoul.

"No jackals," she said with a sigh, and turned around.

"Not until it's dark," Meredy agreed, but she seemed distracted. She kept shuffling her paws and glancing over her shoulder, as if watching for something. Her tail was swishing.

For some reason, Charla suddenly felt nervous.

"Let's go back," she said, starting back the way they'd come and wishing they hadn't come all the way down into the gully. Now they either had to follow the river the long way around or climb back up again. Neither was very appealing.

But before she could even make up her mind, Meredy turned rigid beside her.

"Charla..." she said very quietly, urgently.

Charla turned to her. "What? What's wrong?"

"Quiet!" Meredy hissed. "Don't move!"

She froze.

For a long, agonizing second, neither of them so much as breathed—and Charla listened with all her might, wondering what the problem could possibly be.

As she listened, a sound came to her. A soft, slithering, sliding sound, like smooth scales over rock. A shiver crawled down the back of her neck.

Meredy's eyes were wide, terrified. She mouthed something, but Charla had no idea what it was. And before either of them could do anything else, a glint of silver-blue shimmered between two crags of stone nearby. Without thinking, Charla whirled towards it, and pebbles clattered noisily from under her paws.

Her heart stopped.

A pair of huge, vivid yellow eyes stared directly into hers—eager and hungry. Like something out of a nightmare, an enormous creature slithered out into the open gully, puffing out its chest, opening the dazzling frills upon its neck. It was a colossal snake, longer than an adult dragon and just as tall, with a smooth tapered face and slits for nostrils. But it had arms—strong, wiry, sinewy arms, with muscles that rippled beneath its shimmering silver-blue scales. A long black tongue flickered in and out of its mouth, forked at the end.

Charla's paws had turned to stone. She had seen this creature before. Not in the flesh, but in books and pictures. She had read a horror story about one only that morning, about the naga that preyed upon helpless dragon children.

And here was one right in front of her. Very real. Very alive. And gazing upon them with a deep and vicious hunger. Lance had been right.

Meredy was frozen. She might as well have been a statue. The naga slithered towards them, flaring the patterned hood around its head.

"Oh, Sariliss, look what I have found," it hissed, in a voice as smooth and sliding as its glistening scaled body. "Thought I was mad, didn't you? Said I'd find nothing on this side of the mountains, didn't you? Sariliss, Sariliss, how jealous you'd be... We haven't tasted dragon flesh in years..."

Its tongue flicked out again, and a shudder rolled down Charla's spine.

 _Move! Run!_ her mind was screaming, but her body would not obey. Meredy was breathing fast and shallow, her eyes darting about for an escape, but she too remained still and rigid.

The naga moved closer, sliding effortlessly over the patchy grass, casting them into shadow with its great sinewy body. It seemed to be talking to itself. "Silly, silly Sariliss, wish that you were here to see this. Ah, but then I'd have to share. I'll be eating well tonight, Sariliss, oh yes..."

It raised one shining silver-scaled hand, and Charla saw that the long slender fingers were clawed with great talons—talons that were glowing with poisonous, acidic green. Her heart gave a lurching, painful jolt.

Meredy screamed.

Charla threw herself to the side with less than a second to spare—she felt the naga's claws slash the air only a scale's breadth from the side of her head. Her blood was racing. Hitting the ground, she rolled and jumped back to her feet, just in time to leap backwards and avoid another swipe. The naga sneered at her and whirled around, aiming its poison-glowing claws at Meredy instead. But unlike Charla, Meredy remained frozen.

Charla only had a second to think. With a guttural yell, she spat out a tiny crackling fireball, which flew in a short blazing arc and exploded in the centre of the naga's back. It pitched forward with a hissing screech and Meredy fled like a jackalope, leaping wild-eyed up the slope to get away. Charla made to follow her, but a glob of bright green ooze splattered on the grass in front of her, spraying her with flecks that burned and sizzled on her scales. She yelped and lurched back, slipping further towards the naga.

"Stay still," it hissed as she spun around. "It will hurt less."

Terror struck like lightning to her heart. She didn't even think. Flames leapt from her jaws almost of their own accord, and the naga reeled back with an angry spitting noise. Jerking its head, it reeled back one arm and then slashed it forward—and with a bone-jarring _crack_ , a lashing rope of acid green cut through Charla's cone of fire, slicing it in twain.

The flames dissipated. Charla uttered a strangled gasp and stumbled back, trying to get her wings to work right.

The naga opened its mouth, baring two enormous swept-back fangs already dripping with venom, but Charla was more afraid of the weapon now clutched in its hands. It was some kind of whip—longer than her entire body and made entirely of a burning, spitting acid. It cast a sickly green glow over the naga's scales. As she stared in horrified fascination, it lashed the whip with a violent flick of its wrist.

 _Crack._

Charla screamed and threw herself down, but it caught her nonetheless, searing a line of pain across her shoulder. Gasping, she scrambled to find her feet as grass and loose rock slipped away beneath her. The naga's shadow loomed over her.

Acting on raw instinct alone, Charla flipped herself over and shot a fireball towards the sky. The naga jerked back and it missed entirely, but it gave her the opening she needed. Flipping herself up again, she leapt up the slope out of the gully, forcing her wings to work. Meredy was already at the top, staring down at her with terrified eyes. She was so close; all she had to do was _fly_.

And then something hot and burning wrapped around the ankle of her hind leg, and Charla screamed as she was jerked backwards.

She hit the ground and rolled, grass and rock blurring before her eyes. Her leg was screaming with pain; she could feel the scales sizzling and knew without even looking that the acid whip was wound tightly around it. She struggled, clawing blindly at the earth, her heart jumping in her throat.

The naga was closing in. Slithering, sliding—scales over grass and stone. The acid whip spat and sizzled, the blood pulsed in her head—she had to get up; she had to escape! Grass tore away beneath her scrambling paws.

 _Help!_ she tried to cry, but her voice lodged in her throat. _HELP!_

Somewhere above her, Meredy screamed her name.

The wind roared to life.

It was so sudden—so powerful—that Charla was almost torn off the slope and thrown back into the gully. But she clung tight to the rocks around her and the gale howled over her head, tearing at her scales. The naga screeched.

It was a raw, shocked, panicked screech. The burning whip loosened on Charla's ankle; she wrenched her leg out of its grip and spun around. The sight that met her eyes lasted only for a second. The naga hung suspended in the air, imprisoned in a cage of wind and whipping debris, and it curled and twisted and writhed to escape, hissing in pain and fury. Charla gaped, hardly believing her eyes.

But as quickly as it had roared to life, the gale died and the naga fell back to earth, where it landed in a limp and tangled lump—like a piece of sodden rope. Hissing, it started to move.

Charla didn't stop to think. She whirled around and bounded to the top of the slope, to where Meredy stood wide-eyed and pale-faced, and screamed at her to _move_. The sky serpent jerked out of her trance and scrambled back down the other side of the hill, back towards the city, with Charla half-leaping, half-flying beside her. They fled like the Dark Master himself was on their tails, and Charla didn't look back—didn't check to see if the naga was following, if it even could.

She just ran, until the foothills were behind them and the broken cottages were around them, and they could see the wall of Earthsoul in the near distance.

Only then, gasping for breath, a stitch stabbing fiercely in her side, did Charla stop. Meredy stumbled on a few more steps and then came to an unsteady halt. Charla jerked her head around. The dusty streets behind her were empty—nothing but the long shadows of cottages cast by the setting sun. The naga was well behind them. They'd lost it.

Still breathless, Charla turned to Meredy. "What was _that_?"

Meredy stared bug-eyed at her. "That was a _naga_ —"

"Not that—the wind!" Charla cried, flapping her wings for emphasis. "Was that _you_? Did _you_ do that?"

Meredy swayed on her feet. She looked like she was about to faint. "I...I don't know."

"You don't know?" Charla repeated incredulously. "That was elemental magic! You used magic!"

Her blood was pulsing with the remnants of fear and adrenaline, and suddenly she felt alive and excited. _Magic_. Meredy had used magic. It _must_ have been her. Which meant...

"Your magic is back!" She stumbled forward eagerly. "Try to use it! Try to fly!"

But Meredy shook her head and shrank back, looking no less terrified than she had when facing the naga. "I-I can't. It's blocked."

"But you used it!" Charla insisted. "You used it on that naga! Try it! Meredy, just try it!"

"I can't!" she cried, so sharply that Charla jumped back in alarm. The panic in her eyes was palpable. "I don't know what happened there, okay? It just... It just broke out of me. I didn't control it. I _couldn't_ control it. I don't know happened. Don't ask me to try it again!"

Charla swallowed and stood back, letting her wings furl back to her sides. Maybe she'd gotten a little too carried away there. Sheepishly, she scuffed the dirt road. "Okay..."

Meredy let out a shaky breath and almost collapsed where she stood. Her legs trembled, but she remained standing, her eyes still full of that haunted, hollow fear. Charla moved closer.

"Let's go back," she said. "Before Lance comes looking for us, anyway."

She grinned, but Meredy did not return the smile. Together, on still shaking legs, they followed the roads back to their little cottage at the edge of the city. Neither of them spoke.

Charla was still buzzing with energy when they got there. She shouldered the door open and stepped through with Meredy on her tail, and they were immediately greeted by Lance's stony stare. He looked like he'd been watching out the window, waiting for them to come back.

"Where the heck have you been?" he said. "Bit of a long walk, wasn't it?"

"A bit," Charla said brightly, glancing at Meredy—who quickly looked away.

Nuala was sitting in a corner of the room, watching them without comment. Meredy settled herself on a cushion that wasn't close to her.

Grinning to herself, Charla walked over and flopped down next to Lance—and immediately regretted it. His steely eyes did one quick sweep of her body and then his paw closed over hers, pulling her around to face him. Startled, she tried to jerk back, but he held her still. He inspected her with a deep furrow in his brow, running his paw over the long thin burn-mark on her shoulder—where the naga's acid whip had struck her. Charla held her breath.

"These are acid burns," Lance growled, looking now at the tiny wounds where it had splashed up her legs and chest. "Where did you get these?"

"Nowhere," Charla said quickly, jerking her paw out of his grip. "It's nothing."

" _Nothing_?" Lance exclaimed, pushing her wing aside with a sweep of his paw, his brow furrowing with concern.

Charla winced and looked down. The scales of her lower hind leg were burned and blistered, and they hurt even just in the open air. The acid whip had certainly done its work.

"That's not nothing," said Lance darkly, releasing her. "You look like you were attacked. And the only creatures in existence with acid and poison magic are naga—but you'd be dead if you ran into one of those. What happened, kid?"

Heat rose to Charla's face. Dead, huh? Well, maybe she might be if Meredy hadn't had a sudden burst of magical power. But, for whatever reason, she suddenly felt like she wanted to keep that to herself—like it was their little secret. She caught Meredy's eye from across the room and knew somehow that she would agree.

"I told you, it's nothing," Charla said, hiding her burned leg beneath her body. "We were just...training. I burned myself. That's all."

Lance narrowed his eyes. She knew he didn't believe her. After all, as far as she knew, it wasn't even possible for a fire dragon to burn themselves with their own elemental magic. She held her breath.

"I see," said Lance, delicately. "In that case, be more careful next time. Alright?"

Charla nodded quickly, not trusting herself to speak. He shook his head and glanced over at Meredy.

"Are you hurt too?" he asked, a little less sternly, but Meredy just shook her head timidly.

Lance sighed and looked back at Charla, his eyes roving searchingly over her body—as if checking for more wounds. Evidently finding none, he seemed to relax.

"Just take it easy for a while," he told her in a softer voice. "Let me know if it doesn't stop hurting. And in case you didn't understand me last time... _Stay away from the mountains._ Got it?"

Charla gulped. "Y...yeah."

Shaking his head, Lance turned his back on her and resumed inspecting the map laid out at his paws, and Charla finally let out the breath she'd been holding. Then her eyes slid across the room, passing Nuala—who stared at her strangely—and settling on Meredy. The fear had finally gone from her face. As their eyes met, Charla smirked—and for the first time, her pale cheeks now flushed with colour, Meredy returned it.

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry this chapter is so long. :c I hope it's not too tedious to read. The only part I like about it is the end, but I've rewritten it so much that I don't have the energy to rework it again. Hopefully it's at least decent.**

 **Anyway, y'all are so nice to me. I really appreciate the support you all showed last chapter, and I'm very very glad you're enjoying Balefire so far despite its slow start. I'm still working on my writing, and I hope it'll only get better from here.**

 **I've got a bit of a buffer of prewritten chapters now, so next update will be in two weeks on the 14th of March. See you then!**


	7. The Making of Plans

**Chapter 7**

 **The Making of Plans**

Warm afternoon sunlight spread golden over the outskirts of Earthsoul, turning the surrounding mountains into fiery beacons. The skies were clear and the wind was crisp, and it would have been a good day to set out on an adventure. But Charla and her friends were still there—still lingering at the edge of this broken city, still wasting time—as much as she wished that they weren't. It had been four days now; five, if one counted the day they'd arrived.

But at least Charla had something different now to occupy her restless mind.

"Try again—just one more time, Meredy, _pleeease_."

Meredy sighed and gave her an unhappy look. "I can't, Charla. It's not working. I can't do it."

"Just try! Look, we'll do it together this time."

Charla bounded over to her side and took a stance alongside her, squaring her shoulders. They were at the edge of the Aspen River again, not far from the outskirts of the city, and the rippling water sparkled in the afternoon light. Only a day had passed since their encounter with the naga, and they were careful to keep their distance from the mountains, just in case. Meredy kept shooting nervous looks into the foothills.

"See, do what I do," Charla insisted, dragging Meredy's attention back to her. "Take a deep breath, feel for your magic, and then let it come up to your mouth. It's easy."

So saying, she inhaled loudly—with perhaps a little more exaggeration than needed—and clutched at the fiery spark deep in her gut. It reacted immediately, willingly. Her magic flowed warm and hot through her chest and up her throat, and she felt it turn to fire inside her mouth. Then she thrust her head forward and let it free. Flames leapt from her jaws, licked at the air, and then dissipated into a scattering of glowing embers.

Feeling pleased with herself, Charla sat back and grinned at Meredy. "Like that!"

Meredy still looked anxious. "I don't think it will work, Charla... My magic is still blocked. Nothing has changed. I can't use it."

"But you did use it! C'mon, Merry, try! Try again!"

With a resigned shake of her head, Meredy turned her face away and took a deep breath. Eagerly, Charla breathed in with her. She watched as Meredy closed her eyes and started to frown, and once again fire magic rose into the back of Charla's throat. For a moment, she held it. Meredy was still concentrating; her eyelids were flickering. Then her nostrils flared and her body tensed—and with a cough and a splutter, she slumped onto her haunches, sighing.

Charla let the flames dissipate inside her mouth and sat down. A little plume of smoke curled from between her teeth and faded into the air. Meredy gave her a pitiful look.

"I just _can't_ ," she said, her shoulders falling. "There's just this wall there... I can hardly even get to my magic. Nothing has changed."

"But something must have changed!" Charla insisted, stamping a paw. "You used magic! I saw it!"

Meredy just shook her head, and Charla sat back with a grumpy sigh. This hadn't gone nearly as well as she'd hoped. When Meredy had surprised her with an expected burst of wind magic yesterday, Charla had half expected to see her flying by the next morning. But it was as though nothing had happened. Meredy's element was still as blocked from her as ever, and Charla was at a loss.

Maybe, she thought, she'd have to tell Lance about it. He might have some idea about what was going on with her. But the thought of doing so—of telling him about their little snake encounter, especially—made her squirm, so she pushed that idea into the 'last resort' pile.

"I just don't get it," she said aloud, frowning towards the mountains. "If your magic is still blocked, how did you use it on that naga? Why can't you use it now?"

"I don't know." Meredy sighed and dipped her paw into the river. The water rippled and flowed around her talons. "I didn't really mean to use it on the naga... I didn't even think about doing it. It just...happened. I don't think I controlled it at all."

Charla gazed at her, thinking. She couldn't really imagine that happening. The thought of her own magic going wild and escaping her of its own accord seemed, frankly, silly. Impossible. Magic didn't just use itself. You had to control it, shape it, direct it. That was one of the first things Silverback had ever taught her about breathing fire.

But that was how Meredy said it had happened, and Meredy wasn't a liar. Charla just wished she knew how it worked.

Sighing, she tipped her head back and gazed into the deep blue sky, so far above her. How nice it would be to spread her wings and take flight into that chill winter air, to leave all this behind...

"You're restless."

Charla blinked and looked at Meredy, who smiled weakly.

"I don't blame you," she added. "We're really just wasting time now, aren't we? I really thought you would have moved on by now."

Charla scuffed the dirt and stared at her paws. "Me too... I guess Lance still thinks Nuala might...you know. He really doesn't want to leave you on your own. I mean, I don't either, but—!"

"I know, Charla." Meredy gave her another small smile that did not reach her eyes. "You've got to do what you've got to do. And...so does Nuala. I understand that."

"So..." Charla eyed her warily, hesitant. "Do you think you'll be okay on your own? I'm sure someone at Earthsoul can help you if you ask them..."

Meredy gazed into the river, her face tense with uncertainty. "I... I don't—"

"Hey! Char!"

Nuala's voice was like grating stone in the silence, and both Charla and Meredy jumped. When Charla turned, she found the vulpala gliding towards them from between the derelict cottages at the edge of the city, her pale fur rippling in the breeze. As she approached, Charla saw that there was an odd tension in her face—as if she'd just come out of another argument. She very deliberately did not look at Meredy.

"Lance said he wants to talk to you," Nuala said, swooping in to land in the patchy grass in front of Charla. "We're gonna leave tomorrow—first thing in the morning."

"We are?" Charla yelped, sitting up straighter. "But... I thought he—"

"We had a chat." Nuala gave a grim smile and her eyes darted briefly, almost unnoticeably, towards Meredy. "I think he gets it now. Just go talk to him. Take Meredy with you."

There was a half-second pause. Meredy opened her mouth.

"Nu—"

"Anyway," Nuala said quickly, loudly, already spreading her wings again, "I'm just gonna go for a fly before it gets dark, so I'll meet you back there later, yeah? See ya."

Without waiting for a response, she kicked hard and shot into the air, and the wind caught her as she rose above their heads. In an instant she was gone, like a speck of snow lost in the endless blue void of the sky. Charla stared after her.

"Uh...yeah. Sure," she said weakly.

Meredy sighed. Feeling awkward now, Charla looked away and got to her feet. There was no point staying out here any longer.

"Come on, let's go see Lance," she said.

"I suppose we should," Meredy murmured, and together they started back into the dusty streets towards their borrowed cottage.

For a while, they walked in silence. It was not the companionable sort of silence that Charla was becoming used to with Meredy, but the awkward sort full of questions and things left unsaid. As the shadows of the cottages fell over them, and the quiet became almost oppressive, Charla couldn't help herself.

"Are you and Nuala still not talking? I mean, back then it was like—"

"She's avoiding me," Meredy said quietly. "It's...what I deserve, I suppose. I've made her angry. I haven't been very nice to her lately..."

Charla hesitated. "But..."

"I wouldn't even listen to her," Meredy added, a little sharply. "I got so hung up on wanting her to stay with me that I wouldn't even think about what she wanted... She has a right to be angry with me. I've been selfish."

Charla swallowed the rest of her words and looked down the empty road ahead.

Selfish. It was a word she'd heard a lot in the last few days, mostly from Meredy's mouth. It made her uncomfortable—because, if Meredy was selfish, then so was Charla. So was everyone. All of them were intent on getting exactly what they wanted, and Charla was just lucky, because she and Nuala wanted the same thing.

In the end, that was all it boiled down to.

"But I wish she wouldn't avoid me," Meredy continued suddenly, her voice filled with longing. "If she would just _look_ at me—let me apologise—then...maybe..."

Charla eyed her warily. "Maybe...?"

Meredy sighed and looked away. "I don't know. I don't know what I want anymore, Charla. I just want Nuala to be my friend again."

Charla just nodded glumly. They moved on, unspeaking again, but the silence now seemed less tense. It was strange, Charla thought. Yesterday, she didn't think she'd ever be able to talk to Meredy like this—so freely and openly, as if they were old friends. But now it was like something had changed between them, as if facing down a naga and escaping by the skin of their teeth had somehow brought them closer together. It was like they shared something now—something that they hadn't before.

Charla couldn't really explain it. All she knew was that she felt closer to Meredy than she had before. She _liked_ her more than she had before. And the feeling must have been mutual, because Meredy had never before been this comfortable around her.

A shame, then, that they would be parting so soon. And she had so wanted to see Meredy fly, too...

As their cottage came into view, Meredy's pawsteps started to slow. Charla didn't notice until she realised Meredy was no longer walking beside her—but then she stopped and looked back. The pale sky serpent stood in the middle of the street, gazing distant-eyed at their cottage with a strange look on her face. Charla opened her mouth to ask what was wrong, but she didn't get a word out.

"Charla," Meredy said, without really looking at her. "I'm sorry if this is a strange question, but I've been meaning to ask... What will you do after you've saved your family? Where will you go?"

Charla stared at her, momentarily flummoxed. That wasn't just a question that had come out of nowhere—it was one she'd hardly even thought about herself. Just trying to think about it made her feel sick and worried, so usually she made a point of _not_ thinking about it.

The truth was...she didn't know.

It was strange, but it almost felt as if there wouldn't _be_ anything after rescuing Jayce and Silverback—as if that event was the be-all and end-all of her life, and there was nothing waiting for her beyond that. Every time she tried to think of the after, of what came next, her thoughts ground to a halt.

Maybe, there wouldn't even _be_ an after.

She shuddered and thrust that thought away. Of course the world wouldn't end after she found Jayce again. And once they were together, they could figure out what to do then.

But she did, at least, already have one option to consider.

"I don't really know..." Charla admitted, looking at her paws. "I haven't really thought about it. But...I think we could all go to Jordguard, maybe. That's where Lance is from. It's a big dragon city in the west."

"A dragon city," Meredy echoed quietly. "But, your family... They're apes."

Charla's stomach twisted. "I know, but... If I'm with them, it'll be okay, right? Everyone will know they're good. Everyone will see that they're not bad apes. So..."

She trailed off, swallowing dryly. This was why it was so hard to think about. Even if she had a home waiting for her among dragons—a home promised to her by Lance—that did not mean Jayce and Silverback would be welcome there. Who knew how the dragons of Jordguard would react to them? What if she and Lance couldn't protect them?

She shuddered to think of it.

Meredy hummed thoughtfully. "Well, if you do go there... Would you live there? In this dragon city?"

"Yeah, I guess." Charla shrugged. "As long as we're together and we can be safe, I don't care where we live. I just want to stay together. And I don't want to have to keep running away... I got tired of running when I was with Jayce. I just want to live like we used to... I want everything to go back to normal."

She exhaled softly and gave Meredy a small smile, but all she received in return was a far-away, wistful stare. A moment later, Meredy blinked as if breaking out of a trance.

"I think that's what I want, too," she said. "For everything to go back to how it used to be. But I guess some things can't be undone. Some things will always be different. We just have to take what we can get..."

She trailed off, and silence fell between them. Then, before Charla could really think about what she'd just said, Meredy smiled at her.

"Come on," she said, taking a step towards the cottage. "Let's not keep Lance waiting."

Charla followed her without a word.

Like Nuala had said, Lance was waiting for them when they pushed open the door. He was sitting in a pool of golden sunlight, which streamed through the window and lit up the map between his scarred paws. As they stepped over the threshold, the far-away look in his eyes faded and his gaze turned on them.

"Nuala found you, I guess," he said, sitting up.

Charla padded over to him, tense with anticipation. "Yeah, um... She said we're leaving tomorrow?"

Lance's jaw tightened and he glanced heavily at Meredy, but he nodded nonetheless.

"We can't hang around forever. We've already stayed longer than we intended to." With a quiet huff, he looked down at the map laid out on the floor. "Come sit, you two. I wanted to talk to both of you, anyway."

Unspeaking, Charla and Meredy gathered around the map and settled on the cushions, and Charla felt herself quivering with enthusiasm. She had been waiting for this for ages, and _finally_ it was time. Very soon, they would leave this place. The long journey would begin.

But before anything, Lance rested his paw over the map and looked at Meredy. She seemed to wilt under his gaze, even though his face was gentle and there was regret in his eyes.

"Nuala hasn't changed her mind," he said softly. "I've done my best to talk sense into her, but her mind's made up. There's nothing else I can do."

Meredy looked down at her paws. "I know. I didn't really think it would change. Nuala doesn't give in easily. When there's something she really wants..."

She closed her eyes and sighed, and Charla twiddled her claws with a sinking, guilty feeling in her stomach. There was nothing she could say to make this better. After all, this was her fault, too.

Lance touched Meredy's paw briefly and she looked up at him. "Well, what happens from here on is your decision. You can either head into Earthsoul and try to find someone who can help you get to Mistral, or you can make the journey on your own. It's up to you."

Meredy eyed him hesitantly, as if trying to read his thoughts. "...What do you think I should do?"

He held her gaze. "I can't pretend that it wouldn't put my mind at ease to know you're at least safe at Earthsoul. But...the last thing I want is for you to be stranded there. If, because of us, you find yourself so close to Mistral but unable to reach it... That's not what I want."

"But..." Meredy swallowed. "Do you think I can make it there on my own?"

"It would be hard; I won't lie..." Lance's eyes hardened. "But I think you could do it. The Northern Plains aren't a bad place to be. The Dark Army shouldn't have a presence there—it will be safer to travel there than anywhere in the Dragon Realms, even alone. And the peafowl live up north. Dragons haven't really had contact with them for many decades, but they were our allies. If you run into them, they might even help you."

For a long moment Meredy was silent, her face pale and bloodless, her eyes fixed anxiously on Lance. Her gaze darted to Charla, briefly, and then finally to her paws. "Is... Is that what you think I should do, then?"

"I think that you should decide yourself," said Lance, not unkindly. "I know what I would do, but you're not me. Whatever you do now is up to you. I'm just sorry there's nothing more we can do to help you."

But Meredy just shook her head, whispering, "You've done enough. You've done more than enough..."

There was a tense pause. Charla stared glumly at the floor. Lance touched Meredy's paw again, coaxing her head up.

"Think about it tonight," he said. "If you choose to go to Earthsoul, Nuala said she'll take you there in the morning."

A shiver rolled visibly down Meredy's spine, making her fur tremble, but she nodded without a word. Lance held her gaze for another moment, then finally turned his attention to Charla.

"As for you..." he said, and Charla perked up as he shifted his paw from over the map again, revealing it. "I wanted to show you the route I've been thinking about."

Curious now, she shuffled a bit closer to better see the map, and even Meredy craned her head with apparent interest. Lance hovered his claw over a great dark expanse near the centre of the Dragon Realms, which stretched almost from the northern lands to the southern coast.

"I said it before, and I still think our best bet of getting safely down south is to travel through Whisperglade Forest," he said. "It's one of the wildest places in the Dragon Realms—we won't find much civilisation there, so there shouldn't be any sign of the Dark Army, either. At least until we get to Lake Qilin."

"Um... Isn't it dangerous to go through Whisperglade?" Meredy interrupted in a small, nervous voice. "I've heard that travellers often disappear in the forest... And there are strange creatures in there that don't exist anywhere else. They say that the forest itself is...alive."

Charla stared at her in amazement, but Lance seemed unperturbed.

"True, Whisperglade has its own dangers," he agreed with a shrug. "But most of what you're talking about is just unproven rumours and superstition. It's true that there's a lot of strange magic in the forest—and creatures that use that magic—but as long as we keep our wits about us and don't get lost, we should be fine.

"Which is _why_ "—he shifted his paw again, and Charla followed the line of his claw until it reached the little cluster of triangles that depicted Earthrise Range—"we're going to follow the River Lacrima."

Beneath his claw, a tiny winding line of ink snaked away from the mountains, across the Northern Plains, and into Whisperglade Forest. From there it travelled down, through that dark mass of trees, and into an enormous expanse of water like a great inland sea in the centre of the Dragon Realms. _Lake Qilin._

Meredy said nothing this time, and Charla gazed at the map in silence, already starting to understand. The River Lacrima was like a pathway—it would lead them across the Northern Plains and down through Whisperglade, so there was no way that they would get lost in the forest. But Lake Qilin was only the halfway point. From there, a great stretch of land—of forest, marsh and plain alike—lay between her and her final destination. That was the land of the apes, if there was anywhere in the Dragon Realms that could be called that. And, somehow, they had to cross it.

Lance seemed to read her mind.

"The river should get us safely to Lake Qilin, but that's the easy part," he said. "Then, we've got to get to the Well of Souls. I don't fancy cutting straight down through the Mesaland—we'd be caught before we could blink." He moved his paw again, tracing over the map. "We might have to come in from the coast. We could use your original idea and follow the Serpens River to the ocean and go south from there..."

Charla looked up at him. "I thought you said it was dangerous."

His jaw twitched. "It _is_. But so is everywhere in that part of the realms. That's all ape territory now. It's not going to be easy."

Charla fiddled with her claws and said nothing, staring at the map. Distances seemed so small when they were all laid out before her like this—she could cover the space between Lake Qilin and the Well of Souls almost with a single paw. But it was all an illusion. Even the distance between Warfang and Earthsoul seemed small on this tiny map, and she knew that it wasn't. It would be a long journey through the land of the apes—and far more dangerous than anything they'd seen yet. She didn't know how they'd do it.

"But that's then and this is now," said Lance, halting her wayward thoughts. "We'll worry about it more when we get there. As for tomorrow, I'm thinking we should head up into the foothills and find the Lacrima. It'll be smooth travelling from there, at least until we reach Lake Qilin."

He raised his head and shot Meredy a look. "And if you decide to keep going to Mistral, you can travel with us until we get to the river at least."

Meredy seemed to shrink. As she turned her face shyly away from Lance, she looked instead at Charla. Their eyes met only for a second, and a bolt of apprehension shot cold through Charla's heart. Maybe it was Meredy's apprehension or maybe it was her own—but either way, Charla quickly broke eye-contact and gazed unseeing at the map. Guilt curdled in her stomach.

At least, if she chose not to stay in Earthsoul, Meredy could still travel with them for a little while. But then she would be on her own. She would have to traverse those endless Northern Plains alone, on foot the whole way, with no one to talk to and no one to help.

Charla could scarcely imagine travelling like that. That lonely month between losing Jayce and finding Lance had almost driven her mad. At times, she'd even started talking to herself. What would she have done if she'd had to travel all the way to the Well of Souls like that?

She shook herself a little and thrust those thoughts away, forcing the map to focus before her eyes. The dark stain that was Whisperglade Forest lay tauntingly before her, pulling her gaze, hinting at what was to come—the dangers they would have to face. But whichever way she looked at it, Charla could not see a better path. Lance's plan was good—even if it was half-finished.

"...Okay," she said finally, looking up at him. "I think it sounds good."

"Good," Lance grunted, though he didn't look particularly happy. He laid his paw over the map. "In that case, we head out tomorrow morning. Try to get a good night's sleep. And, Meredy..."

She tensed and met his eyes, and even Charla held her breath as Lance considered her in silence.

"Whatever you choose," he said, his expression softening," you're going to be fine. Trust me."

But though Meredy nodded, the look in her eyes told Charla that she did not believe him at all—and, despite herself, she couldn't help but wonder if Lance even believed it himself.

* * *

It was late. The inside of the cottage was steeped in a darkness as thick and viscous as deep black ink. A faint scattering of stars glimmered outside the window. Charla was not sure why she had awoken. Her eyelids were still heavy with sleep, and drowsiness clutched at her with foggy hands, pulling her back into shadow.

But something had disturbed her. A sound, a whisper...

Someone was leaning over her in the darkness. She felt it more than she saw it—but just as her heart leapt into her throat and the realm of dreams shattered before her eyes, a voice broke the silence.

"Charla?"

Panic eased. Charla rubbed at her gritty eyes and slowly raised her head, staring through the blackness. It was only Meredy. Why she was awake and leaning over her, Charla had no idea. Lance was still sleeping soundly beside her—she could feel his ribs rising and falling with gentle breaths—and Nuala's snuffling snores filled the otherwise quiet cottage, undisturbed. There didn't seem to be any danger.

So what was wrong?

"Sorry," Meredy whispered as Charla stirred and sat up. "I didn't mean to—I mean, I guess I did mean to wake you up. I just... Sorry."

Charla blinked the sleep-sand from her eyes and stared blearily at the shadowy silhouette that was Meredy. Her mind was still fuzzy. "What's up? Are you okay?"

There was a hesitant pause. The silhouette seemed to sag. "I just...couldn't sleep. I wanted to talk to someone."

"Oh." Charla frowned and glanced over her shoulder, trying to see Lance's face through the gloom. It was impossible, but at least he still seemed to be deep in dreams. Nuala too, from the sounds of it. Of course Meredy wouldn't have wanted to wake either of them instead.

"I'm sorry," Meredy whispered again, as the silence stretched out between them. "I shouldn't have—"

"Shh." Charla hushed her as loudly as she dared, then carefully got to her feet. Her tail brushed Lance's side, but he did not stir. She looked up at Meredy's dark form. "Let's go outside."

Meredy seemed to hesitate, but she did not protest as Charla slipped past her and headed for the barely visible outline of the door. Unspeaking, with enviably silent pawsteps, she followed. The door creaked only a little as Charla pushed it open with her shoulder, and then both of them slipped out onto the moonlit street. At once, as the door swung quietly shut behind them, the tension drained from Charla's body.

That was better. Now they didn't have to worry about waking the others.

Turning her head, Charla saw Meredy take a seat beside her at the edge of the road. She could see her properly now, revealed in the pale moonlight that had not been able to creep its way into the cottage. She looked drawn and anxious; there were lines under her eyes that had not been there before. Charla breathed deeply of the cold night air, chasing away the lingering tendrils of sleep.

"Are you okay?" she asked again.

Meredy didn't look at her. She seemed fixated on a point somewhere beyond them, somewhere in the darkness between the cottages. "I guess so... I'm just restless."

Charla said nothing, waiting for her to elaborate. For a few moments, it seemed like she wasn't going to, but finally she bowed her head and whispered something.

"I don't know what to do, Charla."

Charla wasn't really surprised; she'd kind of expected that. "Well... What do you want to do? Do you want to wait in Earthsoul or go to Mistral on your own? What would you rather do?"

There was another moment of silence. Meredy gazed at her paws, her face shadowed from the moonlight, and she was silent for so long that Charla started to feel uneasy. But just as she was wracking her brains for something else to say, Meredy spoke. She did not give an answer.

"Are those really the only options?" she asked instead.

Charla eyed her nervously, her stomach clenching. Of course they were the only options—Meredy already knew that. She knew that Nuala was not going with her, and that Charla and Lance could not help her. She knew it had already been decided. Surely she wasn't trying to convince Charla otherwise—not now, on the eve of their departure, when everything had already been said and done.

She _couldn't_.

But before Charla could find the words to respond, Meredy looked up. Their eyes met, and there was no pleading in Meredy's gaze—just a searching, anxious stare.

"I don't understand how you're always so sure of yourself," she said. "How can you not be afraid? Going all the way to the Well of Souls... What if you get there and your family isn't even there? What if...it was all for nothing? Aren't you scared of that?"

A shiver prickled coldly down Charla's spine, but she held Meredy's gaze. She could feel her heart beating nervously in her chest. "They have to be there. They can't be anywhere else."

"But if they're _not_ there?" Meredy insisted, her eyes pained.

Charla swallowed and looked away. If not...? If Jayce and Silverback were not at the Well of Souls, then they were nowhere. They were _dead_. But what would she do if that was the case—if she got there and they were gone? What then?

She clenched her paws. The cold and the dark pressed in around her, and the moonlight seemed weak and feeble all of a sudden, offering no comfort. But then a voice came to her, rising from the darkest depths of her mind, and Charla shivered. It was Nuala's voice.

 _'Then I'll help you get revenge...'_

She closed her eyes and inhaled raggedly.

When she looked up again, Meredy was gazing anxiously at her. Charla squared her shoulders. "...I have to know. I have to try. Whether they're alive or not, I need to find out."

Meredy held the look for a short few seconds, then turned her eyes to the stars. A sadness shivered across her anxious face.

"I wish I could think like you," she murmured. "But...I'm scared. I feel like I don't even know _why_ I'm going to Mistral anymore. My mother told me to go there, but she's dead now. My father might be there, but what if he's not? What if he never made it out of Zephyr either? What if..."

She closed her eyes and her throat bobbed. When she looked back at Charla, there were tears threatening to fall. "What if there's nothing waiting for me at Mistral? My family might already be dead, and I never really had any friends who would miss me... What if I get there and no one even knows who I am? What then? What will I do?"

A shudder passed over her body and she bowed her head, but Charla didn't know what to say. She'd never even thought of that before—that Meredy might be as lost in Mistral as Charla had been in Warfang. But, at least then, Lance and Chelcie had been with her. Meredy would be all alone. She would have to face that enormous city of strangers all on her own.

Charla could scarcely imagine how different Warfang might have seemed to her if only Lance and Chelcie had not been there. If she had been sent to that tiny dusty orphanage all alone...

She clenched her paws. "But what if your dad _is_ there? Don't you want to find him?"

Meredy didn't look at her. Meekly, she whispered, "I don't know."

"Why not?"

Another shudder pulsed through her. "I don't know, Charla. I'm not as strong as you are. I'm scared... I don't know what I'm doing anymore—I've just been heading to Mistral all this time because I didn't know what else to do. Because I had this...this idea that Dad might be there. But if he's not—if he's _not_..." Her head shot up, her eyes pained. "I mean, if he was alive, wouldn't _he_ have tried looking for _me_? He hasn't— _nobody_ has. I—"

"He probably thinks you're dead!" Charla interrupted sharply, as a sudden spark of anger flared in her gut. She wasn't even sure why.

"Then maybe it should stay that way!" Meredy snapped, and Charla jolted back in surprise. There were tears rolling down her cheeks now, glinting in the moonlight—but Meredy quickly turned her face away, hiding them. Taking shuddering breaths, she swiped a paw over her eyes. Charla could only stare, bewildered.

"Maybe...it's better that he thinks that," Meredy choked out. "If he is alive... He won't miss me if he thinks I'm already gone. I-I'm scared. I don't want to go to Mistral all on my own. I don't want to be there alone and find out that there's _no one there_ who cares about me. What would I do? I can't—I _can't_."

"What else will you do?" Charla asked quietly. "Where would you go instead?"

Meredy seemed to quiver. Her claws sank into the soft dirt at the edge of the road and she went utterly silent.

Charla swished her tail nervously. This wasn't what she had expected. She'd thought Meredy would be agonising over how to get to Mistral, not about whether or not to go there at all. It seemed wrong somehow. She was _supposed_ to go to Mistral, to where all the other sky serpents were. Wasn't that what she had wanted?

What else could she possibly do?

Unbidden, like a spectre rising out of the grave, a once-dead thought crept like a cold spark into Charla's mind. She tried to push it down, to ignore it, because Lance's words were still ringing in her head.

 _Meredy wants to go to Mistral._ _Don't take that away from her_.

But hadn't the situation changed? Wasn't it different now? If Meredy actually _didn't_ want to go to Mistral, then...

Then...

"Do you want to come with us?"

Meredy's eyes opened, still bright with tears, but she did not look up from her paws. Charla held her breath.

The words were out now; she didn't know if she should have said them, but it was too late to take them back. And maybe she didn't want to take them back. Maybe this was what, deep down, she had been hoping for all this time. Lance wasn't around to tell her off now.

With a slightly shaky inhale, Meredy rubbed her paw once more across her cheeks and raised her head. Through the shadow of fear and uncertainty upon her face, a glimmer of hope shone like an ember inside her eyes.

"Would you really want that?" she wondered, her voice hushed as though in prayer. "Could I really come with you?"

Charla shivered, not with cold but with anticipation, as the wind whistled hopefully between them. "Of course you can! Why couldn't you? I'd be happy if you came—everyone would! ...If you wanted to, I mean."

Meredy bit her lip, but she held Charla's gaze. "Do you really mean that? Do...do you think I'd be helpful to you? Like Nuala and Lance?"

"Well, yeah!" Charla said, wide awake with excitement now, her paws tingling in the dirt. "Your wind magic is really helpful! I wish _I_ had windsense and windwhispers. And I bet you'll be amazing when the rest of your magic comes back."

Meredy's cheeks coloured in the moonlight, and her eyes searched Charla's face as if looking for a lie. "But wouldn't I be a burden to you? Lance would still have to carry me, and—"

Charla scoffed and waved a paw. "Lance is fine. It's not like we're going to fly the whole way, anyway. And you'll probably be able to fly on your own soon. As soon as your magic comes back—"

"I think that will take a while," Meredy said, averting her eyes, but Charla was not discouraged.

"It's _already_ coming back," she said, stamping a paw. "It won't be long at all, you'll see."

For a moment, Meredy said nothing—she just gazed away into the darkness around them, biting her lip again. But it seemed, to Charla's eyes, that a little smile was starting to form at the corner of her mouth.

"You know..." she whispered. "For a while, I—I thought my magic would never come back. But then I met you."

She inhaled deeply and looked up, meeting Charla's eyes. A ripple like electricity sparked in the air between them, and Charla's heart gave a funny flutter. Meredy's eyes seemed to glow in the darkness, bright with a fervent fire that Charla had never seen on her face before. She was reminded sharply of Nuala.

"I would never have made it this far if it wasn't for you," Meredy said. "I wouldn't have even made it to Sunback Ridge; my magic would never have started to come back. I wouldn't even _be_ here if I hadn't met you. My...my whole life has started to change because of you.

"And now...you say I can stay with you? That...that's okay?" Her throat bobbed, and her eyes—fixed on Charla's—glistened in the moonlight.

Warm-faced and trying not to smile too widely, Charla looked away, pawing awkwardly at her own foreleg. "Of course it's okay. I just... I thought you wanted to go to Mistral instead."

There was a brief, tense pause. Then Meredy sighed. "I thought so too. Now...I don't know."

Charla peered up at her from under her lashes, breathless with anticipation. If Meredy _did_ come with them... If she _did_ want to come... Then all of this regret, all of this sadness, all of these torn and confused feelings—she could forget them all. Nuala would be happy again. Everyone would stay together. And with the combined efforts and magics of all of them, rescuing Jayce and Silverback from the dungeons of the Well of Souls would be a certainty.

It was everything she could ever hope for. When she'd set out from that lonely eastern shoreline and taken those first steps in search of Jayce, she'd never imagined that anything like this would happen. That along the way she would gather a group of friends around her—friends who were willing to traverse the realms to help _her_. To save her apes.

What would Jayce think when they finally made it there? Charla could scarcely wait to find out. Imagine the tale she'd have to tell him then!

Trying to push down her rising excitement, Charla edged a little closer to Meredy, who was now staring thoughtfully into the star-flecked darkness above them.

"So, do you think you want to come with us, then?"

Meredy closed her eyes and sighed softly into the nightly air. "...Maybe. I can't pretend I haven't thought about it before. But...I thought..."

She swallowed and looked across at Charla. "Do you think Nuala and Lance would be okay with it? They've both been trying so hard to help me get to Mistral, and they've been so angry lately because of this whole mess...because of _me_..."

"They're angry at each other, not you," Charla said, rolling her eyes. "Why wouldn't they be okay with it? Lance is angry because he doesn't want to leave you behind! And Nuala is really sad, you know. She doesn't want to leave you behind, either. She just feels like she has to."

Meredy curled her tail over her paws and gazed into the darkness, her brow furrowed with thought. Charla stared up at her, urged on by the tingle of hope in her chest.

"They'd be happy if you came with us. I'd be happy too."

At first there was no response, and Charla's hopes started to sink back down into her stomach, but then Meredy turned and offered her a small smile. Red and green moonlight shimmered on her pale fur.

"Can I think about it?" she asked. "Just for a little bit longer? I'll go with you in the morning. I don't want to stay behind in Earthsoul. So...let me think about it just a bit longer, and I'll decide. When we get to the river that Lance was talking about, I'll decide. I mean, if it really is okay for me to go with you..."

Charla smiled, too—a little disappointed, but still brimming with excitement and nervous anticipation. "Sure. That's okay with me."

Meredy's eyes softened. Unspeaking, she reached for Charla's paw and held it warmly between her own. Her fur was soft and silky against Charla's scales.

"Thank you," she murmured. "Thank you, Charla. For everything."

And though dawn was still far away, it felt to Charla that the sun had just risen—that the cold and the dark around them had just been swept away, banished by the rising tide of fire and light. She was awake and alive; she was ready to set out on this endless journey once again with everyone at her side. And this time, for better or for worse, they would stay together.

All of them.

* * *

 **A/N: I wanted this chapter and the next to be one chapter, but I'm terrible at pacing and it was tooooo long. So I'm just going to post the next one in a week. See you on the 21st!**

 **Once again, thank you dearly to everyone who has taken the time out of their day to leave a review. It makes me very happy, even if I seldom reply.**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	8. A Long Journey Begins

**Chapter 8**

 **A Long Journey Begins**

Morning broke as clear and crisp as the day before it, and the rising sun revealed a near-cloudless sky ready to welcome travellers into the great beyond. Charla was bouncing with excitement. At dawn, she raced Lance to the Aspen River and paddled in the shallows, while he filled the waterskins upstream and grudgingly answered her many questions.

"It never hurts to be prepared," he told her when she'd wondered aloud why they even needed waterskins. "If we're going to do this whole adventure thing, we might as well do it properly. It's not a short journey to the Well of Souls. We might as well stock up on what we can; it might save us some grief later."

Charla opened her mouth to ask more, but Lance gave her a flat look.

"Trust me," he insisted, slipping the full waterskins into his satchel. "I know how hard it is to survive in the wilds without supplies. The more we prepare, the better off we'll be."

Which meant waterskins and dried pieces of meat, apparently. Charla didn't see how that would help much, but at least she'd have something to snack on if she got _really_ hungry. She was just glad it had all been stuffed into Lance's satchel; hers was full enough with the little book _Star Tales_ inside it.

Speaking of which... This was the first time she'd seen Lance wearing his new satchel. She eyed him as he stood and waited for her to get out of the river, admiring the way it complimented his rugged form and his scarred hide. Now he looked very much the image of the weatherworn traveller who had journeyed from afar—as if the satchel was what he had been missing all this time. She liked it.

"How come you never had a satchel before?" she asked as she hauled herself, dripping, onto the riverbank.

Lance shrugged. "I did once, back when I first left Jordguard. But then I lost it out in the wilds and I just never bothered to get another. I got kind of used to living off the land back then, but it's about time I got a new one. We've got a long journey ahead of us and no rest stops planned along the way—we won't be passing through any more cities, you can be sure of that."

Charla pulled a face and skipped ahead, flicking him with her tail as she passed. "Well, come on! The sooner we go, the sooner we'll get there!"

"Yeah, yeah." Lance plodded after her at a more sedate pace, the ghost of a smile hovering about his face. "What's got you in such a good mood, anyway?"

Charla quickly turned her face away from him, grinning to herself. "Nothing. I just want to get going."

He grunted, and she chanced a quick look over her shoulder. The smile was gone from his face again, and he didn't look any happier than he had the last few days. But Charla couldn't blame him. He was still upset about Nuala and Meredy, and he didn't yet know about Meredy's new plan, as much as Charla wished she could tell him. She and Meredy had decided last night to keep it between themselves—to wait until Meredy had made her decision before they told Nuala and Lance.

They might be upset, Meredy had said, if she told them she was coming only to change her mind later. Charla had decided not to tell her that she might be upset about that too.

Still, she was hopeful. It had really sounded last night like Meredy wanted to come along, and Charla had a good feeling about it. She was sure, when they made it to the River Lacrima, that Meredy would choose to stay with them. It was only a matter of time.

"I wonder if those two are ready to go yet," Lance said as they made their way back to the cottage. "They're going to have to hurry up if Nuala wants time to take Meredy into Earthsoul."

Charla shot him a look. Well, there was no harm in telling him _that_.

"I don't think she's going to," she said. "Meredy told me she didn't want to stay in Earthsoul; she said she's going to come with us until we get to the river."

Lance cocked an eyebrow. "Really? I thought for sure she'd rather find help in the city."

Charla just shrugged. Her lips were sealed now. He'd find out the rest later—and hopefully he'd be happy about it. Provided Meredy made the right choice, of course.

"I guess she's braver than I thought," Lance grunted.

Charla smirked at that.

A skip and a hop later, they found Meredy waiting for them alone outside their borrowed cottage, gazing anxiously into the distance. As Charla and Lance approached, she looked at them with a hint of relief and a little smile. Charla bounded over to join her, brimming with energy, as if there were fires lit under her paws.

"Are you ready to go?" she asked eagerly, skidding in the dirt. "Where's Nuala?"

Meredy's ears twitched and she glanced into the sky again. "She said she needed to go get something. I'm not sure where she went."

"Oh." Charla wrinkled her muzzle and followed Meredy's gaze towards the wall of Earthsoul in the near distance. That was weird. What could Nuala possibly need to get _now_?

"But, yes, I'm ready to go," Meredy said, and Charla turned back to her. She looked a bit nervous, but she was smiling.

Charla opened her mouth to ask if she and Nuala were on speaking terms again, but stopped when she felt Lance looming up behind her like an approaching storm cloud.

"I take it Nuala's not taking you into Earthsoul, then," he said impassively. "Charla tells me you're going to keep going to Mistral. Is that true?"

Meredy's cheeks coloured, and she averted her eyes from him but nodded regardless. As Charla stepped aside, she caught the grim look on Lance's face and knew what he was going to say even before he opened his mouth.

"Are you sure you want to do this? It's long journey to make on your own. I'm not saying you can't do it, but you need to make sure you understand what you're getting into."

The dusting of pink across Meredy's face darkened; she said nothing. Lance's jaw tightened.

"You can't take this decision back once you make it," he added gently. "Not easily, anyway. I just don't want you to regret this."

Rolling her eyes, Charla opened her mouth to come to Meredy's defence, but she was beaten to the punch. With a deep breath, Meredy looked up into Lance's face.

"I know." Her voice was quiet, but steady. "I haven't made this decision lightly. I...I know what I'm getting myself into. I do."

Charla gave her an impressed look. It wasn't often that she had the guts to stand up to Lance. Though her cheeks were bright red, Meredy held his gaze until finally his eyes softened and he nodded.

"Alright," he said. "As long as you know what you're doing. Where did you say Nuala went?"

"I don't know. To 'get something' she said. I don't know what. She went that way." Meredy inclined her head towards the inner city and the wall of Earthsoul.

Lance hummed disapprovingly. "Well, she better not take long. We need to get going if we want to make any good use of the day—and I don't want to run into any early-morning hunting parties from Earthsoul."

"Relax," said Charla, bumping him with her hip. "She'll be back soon. Nuala hates wasting time."

His only reply was an unconvinced grunt.

Leaving him to wait with Meredy at the edge of the street, Charla ducked back into the cottage to fetch her satchel. She found it flattened underneath _Star Tales_ , which she had lazily thrown aside last night before going to sleep, and hurriedly stuffed the little book back in beside the pewter dragon figurine and the white ribbon from the orphanage. One memento from each of the dragon cities she'd visited so far...

All except Pyreflight. But as the knot in the strap of her satchel came to rest against that tender spot behind her foreleg, she was reminded that she had a different sort of souvenir from that ill-fated city. Momentarily distracted, Charla sat down and ran her paw carefully over the old wound. It was raised and rugged to the touch, and she knew the scales would never properly grow back in that spot. Her very first scar... Maybe she'd end up looking like Lance someday.

Grinning at that thought, she shook her head, got back to her feet and scampered out the door to join her friends.

They waited for Nuala for what seemed like ages. Charla passed the time with excited chatter—mostly about things she'd read in _Star Tales_ —until somehow they ended up on the subject of naga. Lance said they should count themselves lucky if they never saw one, and Charla shared a secret sheepish grin with Meredy.

"That's half the reason we're not going to climb the mountains on foot," he added, looking displeased by her carefree reaction. "Naga live in caves lower down in the foothills and at the base of cliffs. If there are any here, we don't want to run into them. We'll fly up into the mountains and take it on foot from there. We don't want to exhaust our wings so early on, either."

"I guess..." Charla groaned impatiently, drawing out the 's' like a hissing snake. Meredy grinned and looked away.

Lance just gave Charla a flat look. Then he sat back and glared at the sky. "Where is that damn fox, anyway? If she doesn't hurry up, we're leaving her behind. Of course she'd take off like this when we're just about to leave..."

"We can't leave her behind!" Charla yelped, jerking upright.

"Don't worry," Meredy said, her eyes also on the sky. "She's coming now. I can sense her."

"Great," Lance grumbled.

Charla craned her head excitedly—and sure enough, moments later, an odd white shape came soaring down to them from out of the deep blue sky. At first, Charla wasn't sure it was Nuala; it was a little too big, and not exactly the right shape. But then it flew closer and Charla saw the feathered wings and the narrow foxy face of her friend. It was Nuala, and she was carrying something. Only as she came circling down towards them did Charla realise what it was.

Dangling from Nuala's dainty paws was another satchel. It was not like Charla's tattered old second-hand one, or even Lance's with its rough brown fabric and many pockets. This one was white and silky and hemmed with golden thread, as if crafted by meticulous, delicate hands. Charla stared as Nuala fluttered down into their midst and presented it to Meredy.

"I'm back!" she said brightly, tossing her messy forelock out of her eyes. "And I got you a present!"

Meredy stared at the satchel in Nuala's paws, momentarily wide-eyed and unmoving. Then she very carefully took it into her own paws, gazing at it as if it was made from spirit gems. "You...got this for me?"

"Sure did!" Nuala grinned, and Charla felt a sudden spark of jealousy. "I should have gotten you one the other day, but I guess I got caught up with everything else and forgot about it. And now that I know you're not staying back in Earthsoul, I figured you needed one! There's a bit of jerky and a waterskin in there, too."

"You went into the city again?" Lance growled, cocking an eyebrow, and Nuala just shrugged.

Charla stared at her in dismay. "Why didn't you ask me to come with you? I would have!"

"Chill, Char." Nuala smirked at her. "You didn't miss much. They were only just setting up the morning markets, so it was pretty quiet. That's why I took so long—I couldn't find everything at first."

While Charla huffed and pouted, Meredy slowly raised her eyes from the silky white satchel. "You didn't have to, Nu... This looks like it would have been expensive."

Nuala waved a dismissive paw, tutting under her breath. "It's just a satchel; they're hardly going to miss it. Besides, it's going to a good cause—now you should have all the supplies you need to get you comfortably to Mistral. You're welcome."

Meredy's cheeks went pink again and she fell quiet. As Nuala fluttered forwards and helped her strap the satchel on, Charla gazed longingly at its pale silky fabric. She could see delicate golden patterns woven along the hem of the bag, forming pretty little swirls like rolling waves. Her own satchel suddenly seemed ugly and ratty in comparison.

"Well, now that we've got everything," interrupted Lance, who didn't seem to care about Meredy's fancy new satchel, "let's get out of here. We're already behind schedule."

"Since when was there a schedule?" Nuala retorted, but she was grinning. She tied one more knot in Meredy's straps and hovered back, looking pleased with herself. "There, now we're ready to go."

Meredy looked sheepishly down at herself. Nuala had chosen well. The white satchel matched her fur perfectly, and the golden stitching stood out sharply from her pale yellow scales. Unlike Lance, who looked like a haggard wanderer, she looked like the daughter of a wealthy nobledragon out for a stroll in the marketplace.

"Not exactly a travelling satchel," Nuala admitted, rubbing her chin. "But it looks good. I thought it would suit you."

Meredy just blushed. Lance tapped the ground with his tailspade, impatience written across his forehead. And Charla stood up, grinning at all three of her companions.

"So... Time to go?"

* * *

It was a brisk wind that blew that day, and it carried them swiftly away from the city and into the rugged landscape of Earthrise Range. Charla looked back with a swell of disappointment as they left Earthsoul behind. She wished she could have seen more of the city beyond the wall—wished she had seen how different it was to Warfang, and talked to the dragons and the pumas that called that place home. Now she probably never would. But she was not sad to leave.

Soon the city and its wall were lost from view, and then the wild mountain rise was ahead, leading them high into a vibrant blue sky. The deep-green forests that covered the foothills passed quickly below and then fell away behind them, and the slopes of Earthrise Range soon became a patchwork of grasses, shrubbery and naked stone. As they flew higher, the air turned from cold to freezing.

Charla twirled about her friends, doing loops around Lance and Meredy—once more perched nervously upon his back—and darting ahead to race Nuala across the sky. All the while she kept her eyes peeled, both for the river they were looking for and, secretly, for naga. But for a long time there was no telltale shimmer of water, nor glistening snake-scale, to be seen amongst the crags of the mountain slopes, and the chill wind soon chased the thoughts and worries from her mind.

Finally, finally, she was on her way. It already felt like years since she had last set out towards the Well of Souls, and she was giddy with the thought that soon the distance between her and Jayce would begin to close.

Everyone seemed in higher spirits now that they were up and moving again. The tension in Lance's face was gone, no one was complaining, and somehow Nuala and Meredy seemed to have reconciled with each other. They must have talked earlier, Charla realised, before Nuala had gone to get the satchel. Now there were no more arguments or awkward silences, and Charla was relieved.

"Are you and Meredy speaking again?" she called over the wind as Nuala looped around her head.

"Yeah," Nuala called back, a grin in her voice. "We had a chat this morning. We're cool now. I guess this whole thing got kind of silly after a while—turns out we were both just waiting to apologise to each other. Dumb, right?"

She did another loop and levelled out alongside Charla, brushing her cheek with the tip of a feather. "What about you? Everything okay with you and Lance?"

"Uh... I think so?" Charla grimaced and chanced a quick look over her shoulder at Lance, who was flying a bit lower behind them. Now that she thought about it, she wasn't sure. He'd been very grumpy lately, and even though he'd conceded about Meredy, they'd never really reconciled after that little argument they'd had the other day. For all she knew, he was still angry with her. A ball of worry settled in her stomach.

"Don't worry," said Nuala, who seemed to have noticed Charla's expression. "He'll come around. Meredy did, after all."

"I guess I should talk to him," Charla mumbled, but the wind tore her words away and she wasn't sure if Nuala heard. Shaking her head, she beat her wings and pulled ahead. "Hey! Race you to that peak!"

"You're on!" Nuala cried, and darted after her.

Hours later, when midday came around and lit up the mountains with harsh sunlight, Charla and her friends had returned to earth. They trudged their way over craggy slopes, finding pathways between low-growing shrubbery and fields of tough grass, all while the highest mountain peaks loomed over them like enormous silent guardians.

Nuala led the way, flying low, and Charla skipped on her tail, trying to keep up. Meredy and Lance followed after them, and while Lance was never far behind, Meredy was always dragging the chain. Sometimes they had to glide to get across particularly inhospitable stretches of sheer cliffs and craggy earth, and every time Meredy had refused Lance's help. Instead she clambered and slithered and even made a few very impressive leaps to keep up with them, and not once did she ask for help. It was like she was trying to make a point.

But Charla didn't spend much time worrying about Meredy. She was too excited to be on her way, and with every crest they climbed, she hoped eagerly for a glimpse of the River Lacrima.

Then, at last, as they made their way up to the peak of a bald and stony hill, she saw something that took her breath away.

The Northern Plains.

They stretched out below her, further than her eyes could see, an ocean of pale green that rose and fell in huge gentle waves, scattered with the deep green gatherings of distant trees. A great forest grew from the foot of the mountains, spreading its fingers over the earth, and its dark green canopy looked so soft and lush from this distance that Charla thought she might like to throw herself into it. Her eyes searched out the northern horizon, where clouds hung low in the sky and the green earth looked hazy and indistinct.

Mistral was there somewhere, beyond the clouds, hidden in those distant skies. And beyond that lay the northern oceans, an impossibly large expanse of water that she'd never even dreamed of seeing—the very edge of the world as she knew it.

And here she was, not so far from it at all. The winds whispered temptingly around her head. Her paws tingled.

"Welcome to the edge of the Dragon Realms," said Lance.

Charla spun around. "What?"

He gave her an amused look and spread out a wing, as if to encompass the whole of the great plains laid out before them. "This. Earthrise Range is the northernmost border of the Dragon Realms as we know them. Everything beyond this—everything you see from here—is no longer our territory."

Charla gaped. Her eyes darted towards the northern lands, then to Lance, and then back again.

"This is the edge of the Dragon Realms?" she yelped, goggling at him.

"That's what I said."

"But...but..." Charla spun around again and stared wide-eyed over the plains. The edge of the realms. The precipice of the land of dragons, which she had lived in all her life. She was standing there. "But what about Mistral? I thought it was..."

"Mistral's a weird exception," Lance said with a shrug. "It's an enclave—which means it's technically part of the Dragon Realms, but all the land below it is outside of our territory. It's been that way for hundreds of years. The Northern Plains are peafowl territory, and they've been our allies ever since the treaty was signed thousands of years ago. Mind you...they've never come to our aid during the war. It's not their fight, I guess."

Charla just stared in awe towards the distant northern horizon, her head swimming with this new information. She'd never imagined that she would end up at the edge of the Dragon Realms like this—that she would look out over unknown lands that did not belong to dragons, like everything else she knew did. It was...humbling, in a way. She suddenly felt very small, and very much like she was standing at the edge of the world.

The crumbling of loose stone made her jerk around, but it was just Meredy catching up to them. She was breathing hard and her fur looked unusually windswept. As her gaze turned northward over the plains, a kind of frightened awe flickered in her eyes. Charla skipped over to her.

"Look!" she said, waving a paw towards the north sky. "We're at the edge of the Dragon Realms! Mistral must be over there somewhere, right?"

Meredy's eyes raked the distant clouds as she paused to catch her breath. "...Yes, I suppose so. I don't think we can see it yet."

She stumbled a few steps forward and clambered up onto a higher outcrop of stone, as if that would help her see further. Her fur billowed in the breeze. But her eyes did not look eager; she looked, if anything, apprehensive.

"It's a long way," she said in a small voice.

Charla clambered up onto the outcrop next to her, gripping the rough stone with her claws. "Have you ever been there before?"

Meredy seemed surprised. "To Mistral? Once, I think—when I was very young. I don't remember it. But it's where my mother was from, so I used to hear about it a lot. Dad used to say that more than half of all living sky serpents called Mistral home. Now that Zephyr's gone..."

She exhaled softly and looked out over the northern lands once more. "I wouldn't be surprised if every serpent in the realms is there now—even the nomads and the smaller clans. We used to be scattered everywhere... But it's too dangerous for that now, isn't it? Mistral is the only safe place left."

Charla eyed her a little uncertainly, and then shot a quick look behind to make sure no one else was listening. Lance and Nuala had made their way further around the peak and were edging down the slope on the other side. Seizing her chance, Charla spoke in a hushed voice.

"Are you still thinking of going there? Have you made up your mind yet?"

There was a moment of pause. Meredy's shoulders tensed, but her eyes remained fixed on the clouded horizon. Then she looked away from Charla. "...I don't know."

"Oh." Charla deflated a little and looked out over the plains. That little bubble of hope in her chest felt like it had been punctured.

Suddenly, she wasn't quite so sure anymore. If Meredy was still uncertain, even now, then maybe she _wouldn't_ choose to stay with them. Maybe she _did_ want to go to Mistral, after all...

Maybe Charla had been hopeful for nothing.

But she squared her shoulders and shook that thought from her head. No. There was still time. Meredy still hadn't made her decision, and they hadn't even made it to the river yet, so—

"Char! Merry! Come and see!"

Nuala's excited yell was so abrupt that Charla jumped and almost fell off the outcrop. She spun around, stone crunching under her claws, and found Nuala waving merrily at her from further down the slope of the mountain peak. Lance was beside her, and he too raised his wing to catch her attention.

"We've found the river," he called.

Charla's heart leapt with a jolt of excitement and trepidation. Exchanging a wide-eyed look with Meredy, she leapt off the outcrop and bounded over to them.

"Where? Show me!"

She staggered and slipped on loose shale, skidding against Lance's side, and he braced her with a paw. Then he pointed his wing down into the deep tree-lined gullies below, and Charla stared in hungry awe.

There, glistening like a silver snake in the midday sun, was a river. It wound its way around the slopes of the mountains and then disappeared between the cliffs, and she saw it again some distance away, snaking out over the flat earth to the west. It seemed to go on forever, into far and unseen lands, and without words or sound it called to her as if it wished to guide her way. The wind howled almost in agreement. Charla's wings began to tingle.

This was it. At long last, the path to the Well of Souls lay before her.

"I'd wager that's our Lacrima," said Nuala, with a self-satisfied smile.

"Yeah," Lance said, his eyes bright. "I'd say it is." He turned his head. "Meredy, come over here! We're going to fly down."

There was a moment of hesitation, but then Meredy stepped down from her perch and slunk over to join them. Nuala gave her a bracing smile.

"You'll be on your way to Mistral soon enough," she said. "And it'll be easy travelling from here—you'll see."

Meredy didn't seem to know what to say. She just let Lance help her onto his back, and then all of them took off from the mountain's slope. Charla twisted around to get one more look over the unending plains to the north, and then darted to the front of the pack. Ahead of everyone, full of vigour and excitement, she led them down through the roaring wind, into the gullies of the north-western edge of Earthrise Range.

The river rose up to meet them, and the flight seemed to take only seconds.

In the blink of an eye, they were alighting again in the shallow foothills beside the River Lacrima, whose gushing waters glared with sunlight as they burbled and galloped over jutting rocks on their way down from the mountains. Charla threw herself onto the grassy banks and stumbled to a halt, gazing down its winding path. It flowed far away and out of sight, between rolling hills, craggy earth and deep-green trees, guiding her to the west.

Somewhere over that way was Whisperglade Forest, the next stop on the road to the Well.

She raised a paw.

"Time for a break, I think. We can rest here for a while before we head out again."

Charla whirled around and fixed Lance with her best 'you can't be serious!' look. "But I want to keep going! I want to get to Whisperglade!"

His only response was a shake of his head, as he landed nearby and let Meredy slip off his back. While she walked over to the riverbank and stood like a statue staring northward, Lance gave Charla a flat look.

"Don't be so impatient. It's going to take us a few days to get to Whisperglade at a comfortable pace. We can spare half an hour or so for a break. Besides..." He lowered his voice a little. "Meredy will be leaving soon. Don't rush her."

"Right..."

Charla rubbed her foreleg and glanced sidelong at Meredy.

Maybe, for a second there, she'd hoped that if they kept moving and didn't stop, Meredy might not even think about leaving. But of course it wouldn't be that easy. Nuala and Lance still expected her to go. Even now, Nuala looked like she was steeling herself for a bracing goodbye as she went to sit with Meredy by the riverbank. Charla hesitated to join them.

Lance nudged her with his wing. "Let's give them some space. I need a drink."

He loped away along the river and Charla plodded reluctantly after him, still eying Nuala and Meredy over her shoulder. While Lance dipped his head to drink from the rapids, she watched her own distorted reflection rippling on the surface of the water. She looked worried, anxious—like Meredy always did. Her paws were tingling with nerves and she was starting to feel a little sick.

What if Meredy didn't choose to stay with them? What if Nuala convinced her to go to Mistral after all?

Nuala still didn't know that Meredy was thinking about coming. It probably hadn't even crossed her mind. What if she said the wrong thing and upset Meredy again?

Charla bit her lip. Maybe she should go over and join them, just in case...

But as she started to turn back, Lance shifted beside her and she looked at him instead—just in time to catch the furtive glance he shot towards Nuala and Meredy. Charla met his eyes for the space of a single second. Then he turned his face away, swiping water off his chin. She scowled.

"You're still hoping Nuala's going to go with her, aren't you?" she grumbled.

He shrugged, but his eyes were hard. "This is her last chance to change her mind. Now's the time for her to realise that. But I'm not holding my breath."

Charla huffed and said nothing, but she did shoot another nervous look over her shoulder. He was right. If Nuala was ever going to change her mind, now was the time to do it. She hadn't even thought of that.

But that wasn't going to happen, was it?

Nuala and Meredy were both going to come with her. They were _all_ going to stay together.

...Right?

Charla dug her claws into the grass. She couldn't take this. She had to do _something_. So, without waiting for permission, she turned her back on Lance and stalked upstream towards them. He called after her, but she ignored him.

Meredy and Nuala weren't talking when she approached. Meredy's new satchel lay limp between her paws, and she was gazing at it with such an expression of gloom and torment that Charla almost felt sorry for it. But far from trying to cheer her up, Nuala didn't even seem to notice. She was just gazing away to the north with a broody look on her face.

Charla crept up slowly, twisting her tail, her stomach clenching. The look on Meredy's face didn't fill her with confidence. Even as she watched, Meredy's shoulders tensed, her jaw quivered, and her claws sank into the silky material of her satchel.

"Hard to believe you're almost there, isn't it?" Nuala said suddenly, as if oblivious to her distress. "Feels like just a hop, skip and a jump and you'll be there." She smirked. "I guess it kind of is, compared to everything we've already been through. The hard part's over now, you'll see."

Meredy said nothing. Her claws sank deeper into her satchel and she screwed her eyes shut.

"What's the first thing you're gonna do when you get there, you reckon?" Nuala continued, her gaze still fixed on the distant northern skies. "I'd go for a warm bath if it was me. Bet you won't miss bathing in icy cold rivers, am I right?"

She turned, grinning, but the smile froze on her face. There were tears rolling down Meredy's cheeks. Her shoulders trembled and the satchel shook between her clenched paws, but she uttered no sound. Nuala's smile fell.

"Merry?" She fluttered around to her front and placed her tiny paws over Meredy's, gazing up into her face. "H-hey, come on. Don't cry. We haven't even said goodbye yet."

Meredy just turned her face away, and a quiet sob choked its way out of her throat. Nuala looked around helplessly and her searching eyes fell on Charla, who was standing and watching only a few steps away. The plea was clear in Nuala's eyes. Charla's heart sank. On numb paws, she stepped forward.

"Come on, Merry," Nuala murmured, looking up again into her shadowed face. "It's okay, really. It's gonna be okay. Just look at me, alright? Look at me, Merry. You're fine. You're okay."

But Meredy shook her head and took a shuddering breath. "I don't– I d-don't know what to _do.._."

"What do you mean?" said Nuala. "Of course you do. You're gonna go to Mistral and everything's gonna be fine."

Meredy just shook her head again, and Nuala sought out Charla with desperate eyes. _Help me out here_ , they seemed to say. Charla bit her lip.

"Meredy?" she asked quietly, reaching out a paw towards her shaking foreleg.

Meredy winced so fiercely and unexpectedly that Charla almost jumped back, and then her head flew up and their eyes met. Hers were bright with tears and startled fear—and as they met Charla's, her face seemed to crumple.

"I don't," she choked out again. "I don't know what to do. I don't know what I _want_. I can't just—"

She broke off with a shuddering gasp and tried to pull away—tried to close her eyes against the tears—but Nuala held her back. With the smallest of flutters, she rose up and wrapped her paws around Meredy's jaw, pulling her face into the patch of pale blue fur on her chest. Meredy trembled but did not try to break free.

"It's okay," Nuala murmured. "You're alright. Just relax. Let it go. Everything's fine—I promise."

As if those words had been a trigger, the tension seemed to drain from Meredy's body. She sank into Nuala's embrace, the lines around her eyes softened, and the satchel fell limply from her paws. Charla scuffed the ground and looked away, and for a few moments the silence was broken only by Meredy steadily easing gasps and the burbling of the river. The wind was cold.

"There," said Nuala, a minute later, gently pulling back from Meredy's face. "You're okay, see? Everything's gonna work out."

The tears had dried on Meredy's cheeks. She rubbed at them sheepishly, averting her eyes, and said nothing for a moment. Charla started to feel nervous again.

"I know it's scary, heading out on your own." Nuala hovered down again to sit between her paws, her head craned to meet Meredy's eyes. "But everything's gonna be alright. It's not a dangerous journey, and you've got everything you need to get you to Mistral."

"But I don't have you," Meredy murmured, in a voice so quiet it was almost a whisper. Nuala's ears pricked, and Meredy surged on before she could respond. "I know you can't come with me and I'm not _asking_ you to, but... But I'm scared. I don't want to go there on my own. I don't want to go there without you, Nu. I just..."

Her eyes darted, almost imperceptibly, to Charla; Charla's heart skipped a beat. Nuala didn't seem to notice. Her ears fell back and she regarded Meredy with a sad sort of smile.

"But you _can_ do it without me," she said. "You don't need me. I'll miss you too, and if things were different I'd never want to leave you like this. But...this is what's best for us. For both of us. Our paths are different now, and you're gonna be just fine on your own. Trust me."

Meredy's eyes glistened again and her throat bobbed. "But I don't _want_ to be on my own. I don't...I don't want to get used to not being with you. I just want..."

She trailed off, and Charla held her breath. This was the moment.

 _Say it. Say you want to come with us. Just tell her,_ she wanted to hiss, but she held her tongue.

"Sometimes we have to do things we don't want," Nuala cut in, before Meredy could say anything more. "That's just the way life is. But we have to make the most of what we've got—and what we _can_ get. I'm not what's most important to you, Merry. Mistral is. Your family is. That's why you're going there. Isn't it?"

Meredy seemed to falter. Her eyes, still unusually glossy, widened a little. "Y...yes. But—but you _are_ important to me, Nuala! You _are_!"

"Not as important as your father is." Nuala smiled, but behind her eyes Charla thought she caught a hint of something remarkably like bitterness. "He's the one who raised you and cared for you and loved you unconditionally. I'm just some silly fox who owed you a debt. I just hope I've paid it by now."

Colour flooded Meredy's pale cheeks, glowing through her thin scales. A strange fire sparked in her eyes. "You're _not_! You're my _friend_ and I love you! And I—I don't even know that my father's going to _be_ there! I don't even know that he _is_ at Mistral! For all I know, I could get there and _no one_ will know who I am, _no one_ will care what happens to me, _n-no_ one will help me..."

She broke off with a small choking sound, blinking away the tears that had gathered again in her eyes. "I'm _scared_ , Nuala. I don't want to go there alone. I don't—I _can't_. I can't do this without you. I can't..."

"You _can_." Nuala didn't hesitate. With a quick flap she was up again, bracing her paws on either side of Meredy's face, holding her so that they were muzzle-to-muzzle. "You _can_ do this, Merry. Tell yourself you can. It's okay to be scared, but I promise you that everything's going to work out. And if your father _isn't_ there...? Well...so what? Your kin is there. You're one of them. You belong with them. And I'm sure that they'll take care of you better than I—better than Charla and Lance; better than any of us—ever could. You'll see."

She touched her forehead to Meredy's. "Whatever happens, you're not going to be alone. Whether your dad's there or not, you'll be with your own kind. And I reckon that would be good enough for me."

Pulling back a little, Nuala smiled at Meredy across the bridge of their muzzles, and slowly Meredy's wide, startled eyes began to soften. With a trembling sigh, and glistening in the corners of her eyes, she pulled Nuala down against her chest. Nuala melted into the embrace, and then both of them went still and silent.

Charla stared. Some part of her—that whispering, anxious little voice in the back of her head—began to tremble, and suddenly she felt like she was clutching at emptiness, trying to keep hold of something that was already slipping from between her claws. Her chest clenched. Fear grabbed at her. She scrambled to keep hold of it.

Nuala had said the wrong thing.

Meredy hadn't told her. Meredy hadn't _said_...

Words blurted from Charla's mouth before she could so much as think about them. "But if she doesn't want to go to Mistral, she doesn't _have_ —"

"Don't," Meredy said sharply. She didn't even open her eyes, but her fur shivered. "Don't say anything more. Please. I'm sorry."

Charla fell back, breathless, disbelieving. The something she had been trying to keep hold of finally became nothing, slipping from between her claws like so many glittering grains of sand. Nuala cracked an eye open and gave her a strange look, but Charla hardly noticed or cared. Something was rising into the back of her throat—a feeling, unpleasant and hot, like anger or desperation or something between them that had no name at all.

She didn't need to hear Meredy say it clearly. She knew, already, that she'd made her choice.

She knew that she'd lost.

"You haven't changed your mind, then?"

Charla stifled a gasp and jerked around. Lance was there, standing mere pawsteps away, as if he'd been there this entire time, watching and waiting. His eyes were grim.

Nuala twisted out of Meredy's grip just enough to shoot a glare at him. "Don't argue with me now, Lance. You're wasting your breath."

He beheld her coldly, shoulders tense. "I know. I won't bother. You wouldn't listen to me before, and you won't listen to me now."

"Then bugger off and give us some space," Nuala snapped, bristling in Meredy's hold. Meredy trembled and refused to look up at Lance. "This has nothing to do with you."

"Fine," he said coolly. "You tell us when you want to leave, then. Charla—"

He turned to her, but suddenly Charla couldn't stand to be in his presence—couldn't bear to be with _any_ of them. She was burning up from the inside out and she wanted to scream, but her voice was stuck like a lump of coals and embers inside her throat. Gritting her teeth, she lurched past him and trudged away down the river, lashing her tail behind her.

"Hey!" Lance called after her, and Charla broke into a stumbling run.

"Leave me alone!" she snapped, and she didn't stop to see if he followed. She just staggered on, drawing out the distance between them, until her eyes rose to the road ahead and her paws came to a faltering stop.

The River Lacrima led her gaze forward, all the way down out of the mountains and into the distant westward hills, so far away from here, so far away from everything they would leave behind. That path would eventually lead them to Whisperglade and beyond, into unknown and distant lands—and Meredy would not go with them. Meredy would stay behind.

For her and only her, this was the end of that road.

* * *

It shouldn't have hurt this much.

Charla sat alone, glowering into the far-away hills and flicking pebbles into the river. Her insides prickled with anger and misery and other unpleasant things.

She'd thought she was fine with Meredy leaving. Sure, she hadn't been _happy_ about it, but it hadn't felt like a blade driving into her stomach. It hadn't been a perpetual ache inside her chest, as if her heart was shrivelling up.

When and why had that changed?

Was it just because, for a little while there, she'd let herself believe that Meredy would be coming too? Just because of _that_?

She never should have believed it in the first place. She should have known, right from the very start, that Meredy would leave her—that Meredy would never follow her into the unknown, would never choose to stay with her. She should never have doubted that. Maybe then, this would have been easier.

The sound of soft crunching pawsteps approached her from behind, and Charla stiffened. It didn't matter who it was—she didn't want it to be anyone; she didn't want to talk. Talking meant saying goodbye.

But she didn't have a choice, and it was Meredy who settled in the grass beside her. At first she said nothing, and Charla remained glaring down into the western gullies of the mountains. Then Meredy's soft voice broke the silence.

"I feel like you're upset with me."

"I'm not—" Charla started hotly, but then she looked up into Meredy's face and a surge of resentment pulsed through her. She broke off and looked away again, her face burning.

"I'm sorry," Meredy said, as if she hadn't heard Charla's half-hearted protest. "You were very kind to extend your paw to me when I was worried… I know it's rude of me to knock it back."

Charla bristled. Meredy's gentle words did nothing to calm her resentful anger. "I _thought_ you wanted to come with us."

"I did! I do! I just… I just don't know, Charla. I don't know what to do."

She closed her eyes and exhaled, while Charla eyed her sulkily. When she opened them again and looked sharply at Charla, there was a kind of desperation on her face.

"But Nuala's right," she said. " _You_ were right. I…belong in Mistral. I'm supposed to go there. After everything that we've all gone through to get me this far…I can't just turn my back on it. And what if my father _is_ there? I have to try, don't I? Just like you said—I have to try."

"Do you even _want_ to go there?" Charla demanded, jutting her chin out mulishly. "On your own?"

Meredy faltered. A flicker of fear and uncertainty twisted inside her eyes. Charla latched onto that without hesitation.

"You don't _have_ to." She leaned forward, her heart pounding. "Nobody's forcing you to. If you want to come with us, then come with us! We'd be happy if you did!"

But Meredy's throat bobbed and she shot a nervous look over her shoulder, to where Lance and Nuala were waiting further upstream. "I don't know if Nuala would agree with that…"

"Of course she would!" Charla huffed and stamped a paw, forcing Meredy's attention back to her. "Nuala loves you!"

"But she—"

"And if you just _told_ her you don't want to go to Mistral, like you told _me_ , she'd say the exact same thing!" Charla scowled. "Why didn't you _tell_ her?"

Meredy's face seemed to shiver. She looked away. "Because…because I don't know. I just don't know, Charla. I _still_ don't know. I just don't want to be alone…"

"Then come with us! I want you to! And Nuala will too."

She set her jaw and stared hard at Meredy, until finally she raised her head and met Charla's gaze. A tense silence passed between them. Something unreadable flickered in Meredy's eyes. But just as she opened her mouth to respond, Lance interrupted.

"Everything okay?" he asked, stepping up and casting his shadow over both of them. His eyes held Charla's for a moment, and she felt her cheeks flush with heat. "It's about time we got going."

"Y-yes," Meredy stammered, staggering awkwardly to her feet, as if he had caught her doing something embarrassing. She didn't seem to want to look at him. "I should go."

For a brief second, she hesitated, her eyes darting sidelong towards Charla. They held one another's gaze for the space of a single heartbeat—and then Meredy tore herself away and stumbled upstream to join Nuala. Charla stared after her, half-rising to her feet, words already on her tongue. But Lance was standing between them, his eyes hard, and she couldn't bring herself to call out.

Was that it?

Had she lost her chance?

"What's going on?" Lance said lowly, dragging her gaze back to him. There was a dark crease between his eyes. "Why were you arguing?"

"We _weren't_." Charla turned her head and glowered at the river instead. "It's nothing."

Lance was silent for a few seconds. "Don't blame Meredy for any of this. If you want to argue with someone, argue with Nuala. Tell her to go with Meredy—tell her to take responsibility. It's not too late."

Charla just scowled deeper and turned away. Lance sighed.

"Come on, don't sulk. We need to get going, and you should at least say goodbye to Meredy."

"We'll probably never see her again," Charla muttered under her breath, but he didn't seem to hear.

Shaking her head, she turned back and brushed past Lance, raising her eyes to where Meredy and Nuala stood beside the river. Meredy was fumbling to put her satchel back on, her paws shaking. Nuala was smiling, but there was an almost haunted look buried deep in her eyes. Charla hesitated.

"Come on," Lance murmured, brushing her with his wing, and he gently coaxed her forward.

The next few minutes passed in a dream-like blur, as if none of it was real and it was all just the beginning of a vague, unpleasant nightmare. Charla hardly heard as Lance bid Meredy his farewell, hardly listened as he offered her tips and bracing encouragement. Words buzzed as indecipherable noise inside her head, and Charla found herself transported to another time—weeks ago—when they had said goodbye to Meredy and Nuala up in the forests of Sunback Ridge.

Back then, she'd thought they would never meet again. But they had, somehow, as if the universe had wished it so… As if it was meant to be.

Was it foolish to think that could happen again?

But that was too naïve and hopeful a thought, and Charla shook it from her head with a prickle of irritation.

 _Why_? Why wouldn't Meredy just say she wanted to go with them? Why had she let Nuala talk her into this?

' _Say it!'_ she wanted to cry, but she held it in and waited with bated breath as Nuala flew forward to say goodbye.

"Take care of yourself," Nuala said, resting her paws against Meredy's cheeks. "I know you'll find what you're looking for when you get to Mistral. Everything is going to be fine, I promise."

Meredy's eyes glistened, but no tears fell. She didn't seem to have the strength to speak, but she gazed into Nuala's eyes with such emotion and intensity that Charla almost heard the things she left unspoken. The wishes. The longing. The love.

A bizarre spark of envy flared in Charla's heart, misplaced and strange. Suddenly, she missed Jayce with a fierce and blazing ache, as if she had only just lost him. He was the only one who had ever looked at her in the way that Meredy looked at Nuala.

But she shoved those wayward thoughts from her head and refocused just in time to hear the tail-end of Nuala's words.

"...and you are so much braver than you know. You've made it through so much and now you're almost there. You're almost home." Then she smiled, pressed her forehead to Meredy's, and pulled away. Her eyes, too, were unusually wet. "Don't forget me, 'kay? You're a good kid, Merry. You're gonna be just fine."

Meredy tried to smile, but it never reached her eyes. With a shaky breath, she tore her gaze from Nuala and turned to Charla. Charla's heart began to pound. For what seemed like many minutes, they just stared at one another. Then Meredy's mouth began to move—the goodbye began to form on her tongue—and Charla lurched forward before she could say it. She flung her paws around Meredy's neck and buried them in her fur, and her muzzle came to rest against her quivering ear.

"It's not too late," Charla whispered, so that no one but Meredy would hear. "You can still change your mind. If you want to come with us, just say so. Just say so."

Meredy shivered under her paws. Slowly, her forelegs came up to return the embrace, to pull her closer, and Charla closed her eyes. Warm. Soft. Safe. It was a much nicer hug than the one they'd shared at the edge of the Great Eastern River, a moment that seemed so long ago.

She didn't want to let go.

But she had to, and all too soon Meredy had pulled away. Charla stared up at her, at the indecisive anguish in her eyes, and her last hopes dwindled and died. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Meredy shook her head.

She would not be coming with them.

Charla swallowed hard and blinked her stinging eyes. Meredy turned her gaze on all of them.

"Thank you," she whispered. "For everything. Be safe. I'll miss you."

And that was all she said. Lance stepped forward.

"Do you want me to fly you over the river?" he asked.

Meredy hesitated. But then she shook her head and spoke to the earth. "I'll manage. I'd like to find my own way from here..."

She trailed off, and Lance touched her shoulder with his wing. "Alright. It should be easy enough to cross on foot. Head upstream if you have trouble." When her only answer was another nod, he added, "Safe travels, Meredy. We'll be thinking of you."

Then he stepped back.

In the silence that followed, only the rushing of the river echoed between them, like the galloping of a racing torrent blazing its way down the mountain to wash them all away. And Charla saw suddenly, in her mind's eye, a wall of water ready to sweep her, Nuala and Lance down into the unknown, to tear them all away from Meredy, who alone stood high and dry above the rapids. The moment had come.

For a brief, heavy second, no one moved.

No one seemed to know who should take the first step—who should be the first to walk away. But then Meredy began to turn, and so did Lance. And just like that, the wall broke. The torrent of phantom water rushed over them, bearing them ahead of it—down, down into the gullies of Earthrise Range, which would lead them westward and far away. They were gone.

And Meredy was left behind.

Charla looked over her shoulder as long as she dared, stumbling over rocks and stones, but Meredy was quickly lost from view. Her pale serpentine form disappeared behind the outcrops of stone and the rising slopes of the mountainside, as the path of the river led them steeply down towards the flat earth to the west. But still, even when she could no longer see her, Charla looked back.

Maybe she would change her mind. Maybe she would appear behind them, leaping down the craggy mountain slopes to catch up to them. Maybe this was not the end.

But it did not happen, and she knew that it wouldn't. The wind howled around her head, as if it too was bidding her farewell. She broke into a stumbling run. She passed Lance, who did not stop her, and Nuala, who flinched but said nothing. And then she was racing down the slope of the mountain, racing the river, and she would not look back—she _could not_ look back—because Meredy was not there and she would never be there again.

A lump stuck painfully in Charla's throat. She wanted to fly—she wanted to get away, to forget what she was leaving behind. It was so unfair. Everything was so unfair.

Her paws stumbled over jutting stones and she almost lost her balance, but caught herself just in time. Gasping painfully, she staggered and forced herself to slow down. Her eyes burned. She had to keep going—like Lance and Nuala and Meredy, she had to keep going, no matter how much it hurt.

But she _didn't want to_.

She didn't want to leave without Meredy. She didn't want to leave her behind.

It was like Warfang all over again. Leaving Lance, flying off into the unknown, not looking back... But, this time, she really would never see Meredy again. Meredy would not follow after her like Lance had. Meredy was gone.

Charla gritted her teeth and pushed on. Her paws were leaden with reluctance, but she forced them forward. The wind whispered its goodbyes for the last time, and then she felt terribly alone, even with Nuala's unsteady wingbeats and Lance's crunching steps behind her.

 _No,_ whispered a little voice inside her head. _I don't want to go._

 _I don't_ want _to!_

She exhaled sharply and ground to a halt. Loose pebbles clattered around her paws.

All was silent, except for her trudging companions and the galloping river. But Charla couldn't move. She didn't _want_ to move. Her paws had turned to stone—stones that had been buried in the earth for eons and would never move again. She couldn't do it. She couldn't leave without Meredy.

"Charla?"

Startled, Charla spun around and saw Lance had caught up to her, his eyes shadowed with concern. She swallowed hard. His face softened.

"Come on." He ushered her forward with a gentle sweep of his wing. "We've got to keep going."

"But... But don't you..." She faltered. "Aren't you worried about Meredy?"

"I am," he murmured. "But we can't do anything more for her now. She'll have to manage on her own. She'll be alright. The Northern Plains aren't dangerous. She'll be okay."

He walked on, with Nuala close behind, but Charla couldn't follow. Her chest was tight. How could they just _leave_? This was _wrong_. Just like Lance had said before, this was wrong. They couldn't _do_ this. They couldn't leave her behind!

But when she turned her head, the rocky foothills above and behind them were devoid of life—empty of that pale serpentine figure she so longed to see. Meredy had moved on. Meredy did not want to go with them.

Meredy was gone.

Charla blinked her stinging eyes and wrenched herself away, trying to ignore the cold caress of wind on her scales and that little voice inside her head. _Wait_ , it cried to her. _Wait!_ But there was no point now. There was nothing to wait for.

And so she raised her head and took another step towards the unknown.

...

"Wait!"

The world stopped.

Charla whirled around, flaring her wings—because the voice had come from behind her, from above her, and this time it wasn't inside her head. It wasn't the wind. This time it was _real_.

She looked up, up the mountain slope—towards the sky—and saw her standing there, where she had not been before.

Meredy.

She stood upon a rocky outcrop high above them, balanced precariously upon its pointed crown, her fur whipping in the breeze and her eyes wild and fierce. And the voice that cried out over the mountainside was not a phantom in the wind, but _her_ voice.

"I... I want to go!" she cried, and the others turned as well to see her standing there above them all. "I want to go with you! I want to stay with you!"

Nuala and Lance seemed to have turned to stone. All three of them stared as the wild breeze howled about their heads, frozen for a moment in time—and then it was Charla who extended a paw. It was Charla who beckoned her and said, without words, that she was welcome.

Meredy's face lit up like the rising sun. With an almighty leap, she jumped from the crown of the outcrop and Charla watched in awe as the wind seemed to catch her, seemed to carry her through the air—and for just a moment it was as though she was flying. She was a serpent in the sky, exactly where she belonged.

Then her paws hit the sloping earth and she careened on foot down towards them, her fur rippling in the wind, with all the anticipation of one who had already been gone too long.

* * *

 **A/N: THANK FUDGE this arc is over, I think I was like three sentences away from death.**

 **Well, I'm not completely happy with this chapter, but after rewriting it three billion times I literally can't work on it anymore so IT'LL HAVE TO DO. Anyway, finally this painful arc is over and we only have a little bit of clean-up left next chapter and then the _actual adventure_ can start. Yay.**

 **Thanks so much for reading, I hope you've enjoyed the journey so far! And I hope it'll only get better from here. And thank you again, you wonderful reviewers, I love you.**

 **Chapter 9 in two weeks! See you then!**


	9. News from the War

**Chapter 9**

 **News from the War**

And so it was, on that sunny winter's afternoon, that all four of them came down from the mountains to begin that long and apparently endless journey to the Well of Souls. Charla felt like she could sing. To have everyone together again, and with no looming threat of untimely goodbyes, was all she could have hoped for.

There had been a bit of quarrelling, of course, when Lance and Nuala had finally learned of Meredy's intentions—but Lance's disapproval had been all too easily silenced in the wave of Nuala's enthusiasm.

"Why didn't you say so sooner?" she'd exclaimed, throwing her paws in the air. "Of course you can come with us, you dork! All you had to do was ask!"

And that had been more than enough for Meredy.

So, in spite of Lance's bewildered attempts to discourage her, she at last turned her back on Mistral and followed them into the unknown.

At nightfall they made camp in the lower western foothills, amongst the shelter of a small copse of trees. The river babbled merrily nearby, carving its way down towards the rolling plains beyond. It was only then, as they settled for the evening and chattered excitedly about the journey to come, that Charla realised how unusually quiet Lance had been. She was used to his silences, but there was something different about it this time—something that made her feel like he was upset with her.

But as much as she wanted to ask him about it, she couldn't with Nuala and Meredy right there to hear it. Instead she troubled over it in secret, and wondered when the last time was that she'd actually talked with Lance—just talked, without arguments or distractions or someone else to interrupt.

She wasn't even sure she could remember.

They did not make a fire that night, instead choosing to sleep in darkness and not keep watch. It seemed safe here, surrounded by trees and mountains and the quietly burbling river, so far away from the fields of war. Amongst the warmth of her friends, Charla found sleep easily.

But, in dreams, something else found her.

Shadowy figures flitting in and out of sight, guiding her.

A jagged mountain rising to pierce the moons, embracing like lovers above its yawning peak.

The world abruptly plunging into shadow.

An eruption of violet fire.

Charla startled awake to darkness, kicking out like a frightened jackalope. Her hind paw struck something solid and warm, and Lance grunted.

Sucking in a breath, Charla snatched her paw back—but it was too late. Behind her, Lance stirred and shifted, and then his voice carried through the darkness, thick with drowsiness.

"Something wrong, kid?"

"No," she said quickly, her heart pounding. "Sorry. I didn't mean to kick you."

She held her breath. _Go back to sleep. Go back to sleep._

But instead there was a shuffling sound, and Charla sensed that he had just sat up; his presence loomed over her like a warm shield against the cold and the dark. Exhaling slowly, Charla leaned back against him. _Never mind._

Blinking the remnants of sleep from her eyes, she stared into the inky gloom around them. It was very dark. The moons had sunk low in the sky and hidden behind the shadowy canopy of the trees around them, and everything else—the craggy slope of the hill looming over them; the river whispering nearby—was steeped in darkness. It must have been well past midnight.

"Bad dream?" Lance murmured, his voice rumbling through his chest.

She shivered. "Yeah, I guess..."

Her voice sounded small and frightened in the darkness, and she cringed. But the dream wouldn't leave her alone. The images were still dancing around her head, even now that she was awake.

Jackals again.

It was that same dream—the same one she'd had in the Arid Lands—with the Well of the Souls and the eclipsing moons. She could still vividly see that image, of that blazing purple light erupting from the crown of the Well and piercing through the deep and sudden darkness. She didn't understand it.

Shuddering, Charla thrust those thoughts away. Then she turned her head, seeking out the shadowy silhouettes of Meredy and Nuala, just to reassure herself that they were still there—that they really had chosen to stay with her. A tingle of relief trickled through her. They were right there—almost close enough to touch, curled up together and sleeping soundly, as though everything was finally back to normal.

The events of yesterday really had happened, then.

She exhaled softly and started to pull away from Lance, but his voice stopped her.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he murmured beside her head.

Charla hesitated. Part of her didn't want to, because it was stupid and embarrassing and it made her sound scared, but the rest of her couldn't resist. The dream was still vivid in her mind. She _wanted_ to tell someone.

"I've had weird dreams lately," she mumbled, gazing into the dark. "I've had this one twice now. I had it before when we were still in the desert."

"Tell me."

"It's..." She hesitated again. "There are jackals. It's like they're trying to guide me to the Well of Souls. And...and when we get there, it's night-time and the moons just sort of...cross over each other..."

"You mean they eclipse?"

"Yeah." Charla frowned and leaned into his shoulder. His scales were warm against hers. "And right then, this beam of purple light—almost like fire—shoots out of the top of the Well. And...then I wake up. I don't know what it means."

Lance hummed deeply, and there was a moment of silence.

"I think it means...that you're worried and stressed and you're thinking too much."

She twisted around to glare at him, even though he was just a black blob in the darkness. "Lance..."

His paw settled heavily in her back. "It's just a dream, kid. It doesn't have to mean anything—it's not a premonition or a sign or whatever. You're not clairvoyant. Unless there's something you're not telling me..."

There was a hint of amusement in his voice. Despite herself, Charla grinned and pushed her head against his chest.

"Dreams are weird," he said. "They don't mean anything. It's just your brain trying to understand the things you're thinking and getting all muddled up in the process. And it doesn't help that all these jackals are around."

"What do you mean?" Charla glanced away towards the sound of the river, but it was so dark that she couldn't have seen even if there were any jackals nearby.

"I mean, with all of their magic lingering around, it's no wonder it's messing with our dreams. But we're almost out of their territory now. They won't come much further out of the Arid Lands than this."

Charla considered that for a moment. The knowledge brought with it a sense of relief, and at the same time—strangely—disappointment. Those jackals up in the mountains might have been the last ones she'd see for a long time. Did that mean they'd stop appearing in her dreams, too? As jittery as those dreams made her, some part of her was curious—curious to see if she would have them again, to know if it meant anything, to see if it would change. She wasn't sure she wanted them to stop.

What if Meredy was right, after all? What if the jackals were trying to help her—to guide her?

Maybe she'd never find out.

But she said none of this to Lance, because he would probably scoff and tell her she was silly. He didn't believe in superstitions.

Instead, she gazed up at him in silence. Now that her eyes had started to adjust to the dark, she could see the shape of his face through the gloom—and he looked drawn and troubled. Odd, she realised only now, that he had awoken so easily. Usually Lance slept like a log, like even the end of the world couldn't wake him. Strange that only a little kick had roused him tonight.

She hesitated. For a second there, things had felt almost normal between them. But she saw things now that she stopped to look—how he tensed when she touched him; how his voice sounded colder; how his comfort didn't seem as warm as she remembered.

How long had it been like that? It wasn't just today. Ever since they'd made it through the Arid Lands, she'd hardly seen a Lance that wasn't angry, tense or sad. She knew he'd been sad about Earthsoul, but maybe this whole thing with Nuala and Meredy had just made it worse. And all this time, she'd just been ignoring or arguing with him, too caught up in the affairs of her other friends to really take notice...

It wouldn't surprise her if he was angry.

Charla bit her lip and stared at the shadowy shapes of her own paws. Why did it feel like he was the only one who hadn't gotten what he wanted? Did she even _know_ what he wanted? She couldn't remember ever asking. But he'd been so intent on convincing Nuala to go with Meredy to Mistral...

Behind her, Lance broke the silence with a heavy sigh, his warm breath whispering over the top of her head. Charla shuffled around to face him, but his eyes were turned away. She followed his gaze to their slumbering friends.

"Hey... Are you angry that they're coming with us?" she murmured.

He shifted a bit, but for a second he said nothing. Then, quietly, he murmured, "I'm not _angry_. I just... I don't feel right about it. Nothing about this feels right."

He broke off with a huff and lifted his head towards the sky. Charla eyed him hesitantly, then did the same. There were stars shimmering dully between gaps in the canopy, tiny glowing pinpricks in the endless black void of night. She felt, almost, like she could fall into it and disappear forever. A faint breeze rustled the leaves.

"Sometimes I feel like we don't even know what we're doing," Lance mumbled. "Out here in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of a _war_ , on some...some crazy rescue mission... We're just kids. Just kids..."

He lowered his head. "We don't even know what's happening out there. If Warfang's still in siege. If anywhere else has been desecrated like Pyreflight and Earthsoul. If we've already lost the war..." His shoulders seemed to sag. "I wonder how Jordguard is... If my mother is still alive. If she still thinks about me. She probably thinks I'm dead, just like Selik..."

Charla swallowed. But before she could even think of anything to say, Lance gave himself a rough shake and squared his shoulders. His face turned grimly towards their sleeping companions.

"Meredy shouldn't be coming with us," he said. "Just because she's got this... _idea_ in her head that she owes us something—just because she thinks she needs to repay us somehow. It isn't right."

"She wants to come with us," Charla said quietly.

Lance turned to her. "She thinks she does. She doesn't know what she's getting herself into. Mistral is _so close_ , and she's just..." He shook his head. "We shouldn't be taking her to that terrible place. I shouldn't be taking _you_ there! But I am, because I know if I don't you'll just sneak away and go there yourself, just like last time... Just like you did before. I can't let you do that."

He fell silent for a moment, and Charla watched him with a sinking feeling of guilt and dread in her stomach. Even in the dark, she saw his shoulders quiver strangely—with a silent laugh or an unheard scoff, she couldn't tell.

"I really am rubbish at convincing anyone of anything," he said heavily, with bitter amusement. "You won't listen to me. Nuala won't listen to me. Even Meredy... Even timid little Meredy. I can't even convince _her_. All I can do is stay here and try to protect all of you from your own—your own _stupid_ ideas."

He broke off suddenly and turned his face away, even though all but the whites of his eyes was hidden by the gloom. Charla didn't trust herself to speak. Her throat was tight.

"Sorry," Lance grunted, his voice still tinged with bitterness. "Sometimes it's hard—being the only one without a choice."

"But...but you _do_ have a choice," Charla stammered weakly.

"Do I?" The sneer in his voice was audible, if not visible on his shadowed face. "No matter what I say, no matter what I think, it's just going to be overruled by you and that damn fox. If you don't agree with me, there's nothing I can do. Doesn't matter if I'm right. Doesn't matter if I know what's best. You don't care."

Charla swallowed, but the lump remained stuck in her throat. "...You _are_ angry. Even though you said you're not."

He made a harsh sound, somewhere between a sigh and a snort, and turned back to her. "What do you want from me, kid? Do you want me to pretend that everything is fine? That I'm not letting a group of idiot kids just wander into the most dangerous place in the Dragon Realms?"

A little spark of anger flared in her stomach, but it was too easily quelled by that cold, nervous feeling shivering through her blood. Twisting her paws, she shot Nuala and Meredy a quick look—but they hadn't moved. They slept on, unawares. She was alone in this.

But that was good. That was how it needed to be.

Charla squared herself and looked Lance in the eyes, just barely visible in the dark. "I want you to trust me. Tell me you trust me. Don't treat me like I'm just a dumb kid. I'm _not_. I know what I'm doing."

"No. You don't."

Heat rose to Charla's face. "I do! Why can't you just trust me?"

"Trust?" he echoed lowly. "Do you think it's that easy? I haven't forgotten what happened in Warfang—I know what you're willing to do to get your way. Do you think I find it easy to trust you when I know I might wake up one day to find you gone? That you might just run away again?"

"That was a mistake—I had no choice! It's not like I'm going to do it again!"

Lance shook his head. "You can't promise that. I know you can't."

"Then why are you even here?" Charla hissed, her voice catching in her throat. "Why are you even coming with me if you think I'm just—just a dumb kid with dumb ideas and you can't even _trust_ me? Why don't you just leave?"

She broke off with a sharp inhale and turned away, her eyes burning. For a cold, horrible moment, Lance said nothing. But then he did speak—and his voice was softer than it had been before.

"Because I care about you," he said. "Because I like you. Because I want you to be safe. And, frankly, I don't trust anyone else to _keep_ you safe—not the way I can."

Charla rubbed at her eyes and didn't respond.

Lance sighed. "Look... I don't think you're a dumb kid. I think you're stubborn and headstrong and determined to get what you want, just like I was at your age. And you've been through a lot—more than any kid should ever have to deal with. I understand why you want to do this...even though I know you shouldn't. I get it.

"It's just...been hard for me lately." His voice became quieter, and Charla turned back to face him. The whites of his eyes shone through the dark. "I want to trust you. I want to put Warfang behind us. But all this talk of leaving Meredy behind, leaving her in Earthsoul... I guess it felt too familiar. You and Nuala both—you're too eager to get what you want, no matter what that means. And now you've dragged _her_ into it. Just like you dragged me into it."

Charla clenched her paws in the dewy grass. Her chest was tight, and she wasn't sure if it was guilt or defiance that was churning in her gut. Maybe it was both.

Maybe he was right. But she would not be unhappy that he and Meredy had chosen to stay with her—whether she had forced them to or not.

"It's not angry with you," he added quietly. "I'm just frustrated with this whole situation. I'm frustrated that there's nothing else I can do."

"Would you be happier if they weren't coming with us?" Charla muttered. She picked at the grass, and the blades tore away between her claws.

Lance snorted softly. "Do you have to ask?"

She scowled at up him. "But _why_? They're our friends! They can help us!"

"They're not prepared for how dangerous this is going to be. And they don't deserve to be dragged into this when it's got nothing to do with them. Especially Meredy. She doesn't even know how to protect herself. And I hate to say it, but with her element blocked, I don't see how much help she _can_ be..."

"It's coming back."

Lance paused. Charla curled her tail and dared to meet his eyes, filled with a sudden urge to defend her friend.

"The windsense and the whispers?" he asked. "They're a good sign, but—"

"It's more than that." Charla hesitated, weighing her words, and forged on before he could comment—before she could second-guess herself. "The other day we...we went up into the mountains, and there was a naga. It attacked us and Meredy helped me escape—she did this weird thing, like a shield made of wind or something, and it trapped the naga so we could get away. So...yeah..."

She trailed off, suddenly nervous, but Lance just gazed evenly at her, his face unreadable in the darkness.

"I wondered when that story would come out," he said. "So it really was a naga, then? You're lucky to be alive. Extremely lucky. Your scales protected you—if the naga's poison had gotten into your blood, it might have been a different story."

Charla's hind leg twinged suddenly, as if in agreement, and she shifted it nervously. Lance seemed to notice.

"Is it still hurting you?"

She shook her head quickly and he just hummed. Then his head lowered to her level, and he murmured, "I'm glad you're safe. I was worried when you didn't come back that time—I thought something might have happened to you. And it nearly did. I suppose it's a good thing Meredy was with you. Next time I tell you not to do something, try to listen to me, okay?"

Charla just nodded. Lance straightened up and frowned at the slumbering Meredy.

"So, her magic's coming back, then," he murmured. "But why hasn't she used it since? I would have thought she'd at least try to fly again."

"She said she can't. She said she couldn't control it—that it just...broke out of her. I don't know what that means..."

Lance's eyes narrowed slightly. "I see. That might be a problem. If she can't properly control her magic and it just bursts out of her when she doesn't expect... It's not safe for her _or_ us. She could accidentally hurt someone."

"Luckily," he added before Charla could even open her mouth to argue, "I might be able to help her."

Charla stared. "You can? But...you don't _use_ magic—"

"Exactly." He glanced at her. "I don't use it, but I still have it. You think it was easy to stop using it? All that magic has to go somewhere—it _wants_ to be used. It took a lot of practice to learn how to control it without using it. If nothing else, I can at least teach her a thing or two."

"Oh." Charla fiddled with her claws, a little surprised—and relieved. "I guess that would be good..."

"I'll talk to her," Lance grunted. "Later. For now...perhaps you and I should get a bit more sleep."

Charla looked up at him hesitantly. She wasn't sure she _could_ sleep now. It didn't feel like they'd accomplished anything—Lance was still upset and there was nothing she could do about it. Nothing had changed.

Or had it? Maybe it was just her imagination, but something about him seemed less tense than it had been before. His eyes were softer.

"Are you still angry?" she murmured. "You're not going to try to convince Nuala and Meredy to leave again tomorrow, are you?"

He exhaled heavily and shook his head. "There's no point. They've made their choice—just like I made mine. It looks like you're going to be stuck with all of us from here on out.

"And, no," he added as he settled down in the grass again, folding his wings close. "I'm not angry. I'm just glad that I've got all that off my chest."

Still uncertain, Charla sank to her stomach beside him—not too close, but close enough that the edges of their wings touched—and struggled to think of what to say. He nudged her paw.

"I hope you're not still worried about that nightmare, by the way," he said, with just a hint of amusement.

Charla's face warmed and she managed a grin. She'd almost forgotten about why she'd awoken in the middle of the night in the first place. The jackals and the dream were certainly the last thing on her mind now. "No. It's fine. I kind of forgot about it."

"Good." He laid his head down. "Try to get a bit more sleep, kid. We've got a long way to go tomorrow."

Charla just nodded, even though she knew he wouldn't see. And as the silence of the night returned to them, she realised that she did feel a little better now. It felt like a wall between her and Lance had just crumbled and fallen away—a thin, icy wall that she hadn't realised was even there.

Now, warmed by the heat of his company, her nerves soothed by the steady breathing of her slumbering friends, Charla closed her eyes and let herself sink back into the land of dreams.

* * *

It was a clear crisp day when they came down from the foothills and began on the long path over the rolling green plains. The River Lacrima led the way, winding merrily westward like a great blue serpent, and Charla skipped ahead on eager paws. She was in a good mood—mostly because everyone else was, too.

The change in Nuala's demeanour since yesterday was almost startling. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, she looked like she was ready to take on the world and win. And Charla knew that, even though she didn't say it, staying with Meredy meant more to her than any of them—perhaps even Nuala herself—had realised.

Lance, too, seemed to have calmed down. He was back to his usual self—still gruff, still stubborn, still quiet, but with a certain warmth about his eyes that Charla had sorely missed. Clearly, their uncomfortable little midnight talk had done _something_ to help him.

Now all of those uneasy thoughts and disagreements had been left behind in the gullies of Earthrise Range—and with the shadow of the mountains no longer looming over them, the sky bright and the green hills rolling gently into the distance, the way forward finally seemed clear. They travelled on foot, and the going was swift and easy. The river burbled on nearby, glinting under the sun, and Charla felt like she might never get tired of this.

This was, perhaps, the happiest she'd felt in a long time. Her friends were with her, the skies were clear, no one was arguing anymore, and at long last the great chasm between her and the Well of Souls was beginning to close.

"It's a shame you didn't decide to come with us sooner," Nuala had said to Meredy before they'd left the foothills. "We might not have had to cross the Arid Lands at all!"

But while Meredy had mumbled apologetically about how she hadn't thought of it before they'd got to Earthsoul, Lance had disagreed.

"We still would have," he'd said. "Like I said to Charla, getting you two across the desert wasn't our only reason for heading north. We never would have made it through the middle of the Dragon Realms—not the way they are now. At least up here, we can travel without worry."

And as their days out on the open green plains grew from one to two, and then to three, Charla saw what he meant. There was no Dark Army to speak of—not out here in these far northern lands. There were no dreadwings in the sky, no sign of apes, no lingering destruction that spoke of their presence.

There was only the wild and everything in it.

When they were hungry, they hunted jackalopes that ran like the wind over the rippling grasses, or caught silvery fish in the rapids of the river. During the day, birds darted across the endless blue sky, and at night owls hooted amongst the scattered trees out on the plains. Once, Charla paused at the crest of a hill and noticed a herd of huge grey-skinned creatures grazing far away to the north. When she pointed them out to Lance, he told her they were cowleks.

"I've seen them before!" Charla said excitedly. "When I left Warfang. They were on the plains near the Great Eastern River."

Lance frowned at her. "Out there? They can't have been wild ones... That must have been Pyreflight's herd. Though I imagine they're going a bit wild now that there's no one around to shepherd them."

"I saw them in Earthsoul, too," Charla said, and he nodded as if this wasn't news to him.

"We've domesticated cowleks for centuries. I heard it was the moles who started doing it, and we just followed on. They're not just easy meat—they're also great for hauling heavy things, like carts and wagons. I've even seen moles riding them."

He nodded towards the herd grazing upon the distant plains. "I bet that herd belongs to the peafowl. They must domesticate them, too. But if you head much further north, you'll find real wild cowlek. They grow huge in the wild, not like our little domesticated ones. As big as dragons—and with these enormous tusks, too."

He brought his paw up to his mouth and waggled his talons, as if trying to mimic the image. Charla grinned.

Lance smirked. "Not something you'd want to hunt, that's for sure."

They carried on, and it was not the last time they saw cowlek herds in the distance.

As the days passed, Charla noticed more and more how pleasant it was to travel among friends. With no more need to fear a looming goodbye, she was free to enjoy the company of her newest companions. Meredy seemed content with her decision to follow them—even though Charla did catch her gazing almost wistfully towards the north at times—and Nuala was more cheerful than Charla had ever seen her. She spun wild stories for them during long boring hours of travel, and sometimes challenged all of them to race her along the river. She always won, of course—even when Lance joined in.

In quiet moments, when they found themselves alone, Charla talked to Meredy about her magic. True to his word, Lance had approached her on their first evening since leaving the foothills, and offered to help her control her returning powers. At first, Meredy had been reluctant.

"I don't want to get my hopes up," she admitted quietly to Charla. "I don't feel like it's coming back. It still feels like there's this wall there and I can't break through it... And I don't want to be bothersome for Lance."

But Lance was insistent.

"If you're going to be travelling with us, you need to be able to control it," he told her. "We can't have it bursting out of you when you least expect it. You might hurt someone. And besides, it's not like there's much else I was planning to do with my days. We've got a lot of travel time ahead of us—we might as well fill it with something useful."

So, after a little coaxing from Charla and Nuala, Meredy had agreed. Charla had tried to listen in on their first lesson, but Lance had shooed her away because she was 'making Meredy nervous.' Instead, she had to be content with watching from afar, and with the things that Meredy was willing to tell her.

"He's very patient," Meredy said to Charla after one such lesson. "I always thought he was the sort who...well, got agitated easily. But he's been very kind."

"What's he teaching you?" Charla asked, because she was dying to know.

"Oh... Nothing new, really. We're starting out very slowly. He said we should start with only the basics. You know, like how hatchlings learn to feel their own magic and how to be aware of it as it moves through your body... He says I need to be especially aware of how my magic reacts to my emotions. It's all a lot of meditation, really."

"Huh," said Charla, who had expected something a little more exciting than that. "Do you think it helps?"

"I can't really say yet..."

But as the days went on, Charla thought she did notice a small difference in Meredy. She seemed a little happier—a little more confident—as if she was starting to believe that this might actually work. If nothing else, at least there was that.

With her days of travel so full and bright, Charla almost started to forget about the plight of the Dragon Realms, upon whose fringe they so carelessly wandered. She stopped thinking about Warfang and Pyreflight and Earthsoul. She stopped worrying about the desolate places she'd seen desecrated by the Dark Army. She stopped fearing the possibility of dreadwings in the sky or apes over the land, and at night she even lit fires that could probably be seen far and wide over the open plains. She began to think that it would be a very long time before she saw an ape again.

After all, there was no reason for the Dark Army to be up here, so far from the centre of dragon lands...

* * *

It was mid-morning. The fourth day in their trek across the rolling plains had dawned cold and blustery, though the sun was bright and there was not a cloud in the sky. Charla raced Nuala down the slope of a steep hill, and the wind nipped at her eyes with tiny sharp fangs. As they met up with the river again, Charla skidded to a halt and shivered.

The wind was freezing, as if it had blown in from the icy wastes of Dante's Freezer far in the south. The river water bucked and flurried, as though in protest.

"That's a winter breeze, alright," said Nuala, whose feathers were so fluffed out that she looked almost twice her usual size. "I bet it's snowing on the mountaintops."

Charla just nodded, because her jaw was clenched shut to keep her teeth from chattering. With Nuala at her side, she climbed another slope to the grassy crest of a shallow hill and stood for a moment gazing westward. There was a faint haze in the distance—a hint of darker colour highlighted against the horizon and the bright sky—and she was beginning to think it just might be where they were going. It just might be the edge of Whisperglade Forest.

But it was still so far away and she couldn't be sure. Impatiently, her wings quivering in the cold, she craned her head back and looked for Lance. He and Meredy weren't _too_ far behind; she could stand to wait for them to catch up. As the wind lashed like an icy whip through her scales, Charla stamped her feet, puffed fire between her teeth, and looked again towards the western horizon.

Maybe Nuala would know. But as Charla opened her mouth to ask Nuala if she thought that distant haze was Whisperglade, something else caught her eye. A flash of motion; a dark shape against the sky. Instinctively, she turned her head.

It was far too big to be a bird. Even from this distance, she could see that. The creature, whatever it was, flew in from the south, soaring low over the great green plains. Every gust of wind jostled it, tearing its wings this way and that, so that its flight looked strangely unsteady—as if it was struggling. Charla stared and, as she did, she realised it was sinking lower. Lower and lower it flew, until it was almost touching the crests of the rising knolls.

And then, almost directly ahead of them, it fell away behind the hills and Charla heard—distantly—the faintest splash of water, and a low keening wail.

Silence fell. Wide-eyed, Charla stared at the spot where it had disappeared, until a voice from behind made her jump.

"What was that?"

She gasped and whirled around. Lance had caught up, and Meredy was peering around him curiously—both of them gazing, like Charla had been, towards the spot where the creature had fallen. Charla turned back, feeling oddly breathless.

"I...don't know..." she said.

Almost automatically, without really thinking about it, Charla moved forward. The wind wailed in her ears and then she was running down the slope of the hill, ignoring Lance's cry for her to wait. She thundered across the plain, following the line of the river winding nearby, the blood pulsing hotly through her head.

A dragon. It must have been a dragon.

If it had crash-landed, it might be hurt—it might need help. She pushed on, her paws thumping on the earth, not noticing or caring if anyone was following her. If only she had spirit gems, she thought breathlessly, but she had used them all in Pyreflight and she had not seen another outside of her dreams for a long time. Still, even without them, she had to help _somehow_.

At last she reached the crown of another hill, and there she stopped—because the creature was right below her, sprawled across the earth. And it was not a dragon.

Charla froze.

Splayed unnaturally across the base of the hill in front of her, half in the river and half over the opposite bank, was a dreadwing. It was an unusual sort of dreadwing—a sort that Charla had never seen before—with matted white fur, dark skin and vivid pink wings. One of those wings was bent at a strange, sickening angle, and the dreadwing was crying.

It was a weak keening cry, pitiful and full of pain—like it was calling for help. And it was struggling, clawing at the riverbank with its one good wing but failing to get anywhere. The water splashed and heaved around its body, as if it was trying to wash the dreadwing away.

Holding her breath, without even knowing _why_ she was doing it, Charla started to inch down the slope. Her paws slipped a little in the grass; she felt unsteady. Her heart was pounding. But, for some reason, she had to get closer. She wanted to see the dreadwing properly, up close, like she never really had before—at least, not without fear of death. Even broken and grounded as this one was, it was majestic in a terrifying, ugly sort of way.

As she crept down the riverbank, her pawsteps muffled by the grass, she noticed something she'd missed before. A few things, in fact. For one, the dreadwing was injured—and not just from a broken wing. There were great scabbed-over wounds in its barrel-like body, like something had clawed at it, and blackened marks where fur had been burned away in strange jagged patterns. Blood bubbled around its jutting fangs with every rattling, heaving breath. And it was wearing a saddle: a tattered piece of brown leather secured by thick straps around its undercarriage.

Charla frowned and inched closer. Then something moved from behind the dreadwing, something that she had not seen before, and a ball of ice fell into her stomach.

The dreadwing had a rider. There was an ape. And he, at least, was still standing.

Frozen in place, Charla just stared, expecting the ape to notice her at any second. Like the dreadwing, he was an unusual sort of ape—his fur, not brown like most she had seen, was a vivid and unnatural white, as if it had been stripped of all colour. But for a moment, he did not seem to realise she was there.

The ape staggered around to his dreadwing's head, limping heavily, and laid a hand on one of its curving horns. The dreadwing keened pitifully. The ape's face seemed to crumple—Charla thought she heard him murmur something. And then he lifted his head, as if to look for help, and their eyes suddenly met.

The ape froze. Charla's stomach clenched.

"Here?" croaked the ape, sounding like he hadn't spoken in ages. "Even here?"

He stumbled back and his hand scrabbled at his waist, as if searching for something—but there was nothing there. The tension in Charla's chest eased. He had no weapon. He was unarmed. Looking horrified, the ape fell back, his eyes fixed on something over Charla's shoulder—and Charla heard the sound of thundering paws. Before she could even turn her head, Lance was beside her, his wings half spread, shielding her from the ape and the dreadwing with his own body.

Charla looked back. Meredy and Nuala were coming down the hill towards them, and Nuala's face was murderous. Meredy just looked worried.

"What are you doing here, ape?" Lance snarled, and Charla whipped her head around again.

The ape staggered and his legs almost buckled, but he kept his feet. His face twisted between horror and disbelief. "Me? _Me_? Why are _you_ here? Why are there dragons here as well? Why are there dragons _everywhere_?!"

He made a choking noise and clutched at his tunic, which too bore strange burn-marks and tattered slash wounds. Charla could see dried blood on his stark fur.

"These are the Dragon Realms," Lance spat, his lip curling. "This is our home."

"The edge!" cried the ape. "The edge of the Dragon Realms! I'm trying to get out—I'm trying to _leave_ , and still I can't get away from you dragons!"

The dreadwing wailed again, faintly, and Lance looked dispassionately towards it. But Charla stared at the ape.

"You're leaving?" she asked. "Why? Where are you going?"

The ape gazed at her like she had two heads. "Because I've had enough, why else? I'm sick of war! I'm sick of fighting dragons! I've had it with—with—with _everything_! I just want to live; I don't care anymore. Just let me _go_."

A shiver rolled down Charla's spine. For some reason, just now, she had felt like she was talking to Jayce instead—like he was the one standing in front of her, covered in blood and ash and fear. But the image vanished in an instant, and she saw again this shaking, unfamiliar ape.

"I don't think your dreadwing is going any further," Lance said coldly, and both Charla and the ape looked at him.

The dreadwing uttered a pained chattering sound, as if it knew what they were talking about. Shuddering, the ape gave them a wary look and then staggered closer to his mount. His shaking hands reached for the dreadwing's ugly face.

"I'm sorry, Deedri, I'm so sorry," he murmured, his voice cracking. "I'm sorry. You tried so hard. You did so well... I'm sorry."

He pressed his forehead against the dreadwing's and took a shuddering breath. The dreadwing crooned quietly and its struggles eased. Something in Charla's chest twisted uncomfortably; she didn't understand. Lance's face was stony as he watched this short exchange.

After a moment, the ape stepped back and started to move unsteadily around the dreadwing, as if he was looking for something. A second later, he seemed to find it. He bent low, and when he stood up again there was a small knife in his hand, its blade glinting with sunlight. Charla's heart skipped a beat. He did have a weapon. He'd just dropped it.

But though Lance tensed and Charla started to reach for her fire, the ape did not turn to them. Instead, trembling worse than ever, he staggered back around to his dreadwing's head and took another rasping breath. Then he raised the blade.

The world seemed to slow.

"What are you _doing_ —? Don't!" Charla heard herself cry, but then Lance swept his wing in front of her face, blinding her—and she heard a sickening, wet _thud_.

Silence. The ape made a choking sound; Charla heard his breaths rasping unsteadily from his chest. Wide-eyed, breathless, Charla pushed Lance's wing away from her face. Her stomach clenched. The ape was crouched over the dreadwing, his hand trembling on the handle of his dagger—which was buried up to the hilt in the back of the dreadwing's head. It was no longer moving. Its wings and hind legs hung limp in the river, drifting with the current.

The ape stepped back and Charla looked away as he wrenched the knife free. When she looked back, she saw his eyes were red and puffy. His nostrils flared with each shuddering breath.

"Why?" she snapped, stamping a paw in the grass, and the ape jumped. "Why did you do that? You killed it!"

"She was already dying," the ape croaked, his fingers tightening around the knife's handle. "I couldn't leave her to suffer."

Someone scoffed loudly and Charla flinched. Nuala had come up beside her and she hadn't even noticed. Her eyes were fixed on the ape, and they were filled with hatred and disgust.

"Yeah, right," she sneered, baring her narrow fangs. "I bet you were just itching to kill something, you foul creature."

The ape seemed to choke; a spasm of pain and anger rippled across his face. "Oh, sure! Sure! I just _love_ killing things! Don't we all?!"

"You're disgusting," Nuala spat. "Just like the rest of your kind."

The ape's jaw trembled and Charla tensed, suddenly afraid that he might fling his dagger at them. But he didn't, and Lance quickly interrupted.

"Where did you come from?" he asked, frowning. Charla glanced at him. He was looking at the ape differently now—no longer with that same cold dislike, but with an odd searching look, as if he didn't understand something.

His grubby face streaked with tears, the ape stared at Lance as though he couldn't fathom why a dragon would ask him such a question. But then he sighed and said, "Concurrent Skies."

"Cynder's fortress?" asked Lance.

The ape scoffed. "Sure, if you want to call it that. Not exactly around to claim it anymore, though, is she?"

Lance seemed to falter; Charla stared. The ape scrubbed at his eyes and then glanced between them, his brow knitting together.

"What, you haven't heard? Cynder's gone. Disappeared some two weeks ago now or something. Right after she finally got the Fire Guardian, too... We reckon she was killed by that purple dragon. He sure did a number on us. And now—"

"Purple dragon?" Lance cut in sharply, almost angrily, and the ape flinched. "There's no such thing as a purple dragon."

"Well, I dunno what world you're living in," said the ape, frowning, "but I saw him with my own eyes. He was a purple dragon, alright. Just a runt, too—no bigger than your little red friend there."

"You were seeing things," Lance said without hesitation, his brow furrowed. "It must have been an ice dragon."

The ape just shrugged. "Well, I ain't gonna argue with a dragon. It's just what I saw."

"But Cynder's really gone?" Charla interrupted. She could hardly believe it; it didn't seem possible. Cynder was an unstoppable force—she was violent and deadly and dangerous even for a dragon, and there was no way anyone could have just taken her out. Was there?

"I reckon she would have come back already if she was still alive," said the ape.

"But—"

"What about the siege of Warfang?" Lance said, cutting Charla off. "What's happening to the Dark Army now, if Cynder is gone?"

The ape made a sort of spluttering noise and spread his arms. "Well, heck if I know! I'm leaving all that behind! I don't care! But I reckon that siege is doomed now, isn't it? Cynder was gonna be their endgame, wasn't she? She was supposed to swoop in and lead us to battle when the city dragons were all weak and hungry, but that's not gonna happen now. It's over. I'm done. I've had enough."

"What about—" Lance started to ask, but the ape didn't let him continue.

"I don't know!" he yelled, brandishing the dagger—and then flinched when Lance tensed and bared his teeth. "I don't know anything else, okay? All I know is that Cynder disappeared and then them electric dragons showed up and I got the heck out of there! That's it!"

"Electric dragons?" Charla echoed, her head spinning with all of this new information.

The ape looked at her. "Yeah. Them. We thought Cynder chased 'em all out of Concurrent Skies a year ago, but I guess some of them stuck around—hid somewhere; I dunno where. I guess they noticed Cynder was gone, and they wanted their fortress back. We weren't ready for it... I didn't want to stick around and be killed, so I jumped on Deedri and got the heck out of there."

He gazed solemnly at his dead dreadwing, his throat bobbing. "Now I guess I'm heading the rest of the way on foot..."

"To where?" said Lance. "Where are you going?"

The ape shrugged. "To the peafowl. They always said the peafowl would shelter us... I guess I'll see if that's true, eh?" He hesitated, his eyes on Lance. "Unless you're planning on killing me here."

His fingers tightened again around his knife, but Lance just gazed grimly at him.

"We have no reason to kill you," he said. "You're no threat to us."

Charla thought she heard Nuala whisper 'Speak for yourself,' but no one openly argued. The ape looked down at himself—at his tattered clothes, blood-matted fur, and his tiny knife. With a sigh, he raised his head.

"No," he said. "I don't reckon I am."

There was a moment of pause, in which the ape gazed at each of them in turn—including the dreadwing—and then started to turn away. Lance didn't try to call him back, and Nuala and Meredy just watched. But as the ape began to limp away through the grass, Charla couldn't help herself.

"Wait!" she cried, leaping up onto a cluster of stone at the edge of the river. "What's your name?"

She couldn't say why she wanted to know. Maybe just because she didn't want him to be another faceless ape—another enemy to be forgotten, like so many others. He reminded her too much of Jayce.

Slowly, the white-furred ape turned back to face her.

"Hoping I'm some important war general, are ya, dragon?" He gave her a humourless smirk. "That'd make a nice story for you, wouldn't it? Unfortunately, I'm just a Skyfire. Kafik Skyfire. No one important."

Then he raised a hand in farewell, almost mockingly, and turned away. Charla watched him go—watched him begin the long stumbling walk into the endless expanse of the Northern Plains, leaving his dreadwing behind. It seemed an impossible distance, especially for a wounded ape. But he carried on nonetheless, and he didn't look back, until his stark white fur was lost beyond the rising hills. Charla exhaled slowly.

"He won't make it."

Startled, she glanced back and saw Nuala glaring across the river—towards where Kafik had disappeared.

"Why not?" Charla asked tremulously, almost defensively.

"Because the peafowl will kill him if he doesn't die of his injuries first," she sneered.

Charla shifted uneasily. "He said the peafowl would shelter them..."

Nuala hissed through her teeth. "As _if_. Why would they shelter apes? Apes are everyone's enemy."

Then she tossed her head and turned her back on the river. As Nuala passed the dead dreadwing and continued on the way westward, Meredy gave Charla a nervous look and followed.

Charla didn't move. She didn't know what to think. She didn't know why it felt like a hollow had suddenly opened up in her chest—or why she wanted to know that Kafik was going to be okay. He wasn't Jayce. He was just an ape. Who knew how many dragons or serpents or vulpala he might have killed. He probably didn't even deserve her worry.

But she worried anyway—about him, and about the war he had left behind. She still couldn't believe that Cynder was gone, that she might be dead. And what of the purple dragon that Kafik said he'd seen? If he was telling the truth—if he had seen correctly... What did that mean?

"Come on," Lance murmured, pulling her thoughts back to earth. He was the only one still standing there, waiting for her. "We should keep going."

Charla swallowed, nodded, and leapt back onto the riverbank. Side-by-side they walked on, their pawsteps soft in the grass, and Charla gazed at the dreadwing as they went. The grass was stained red beneath its head, and its wing was still bent at that unnatural angle, but otherwise she could almost imagine it was sleeping. It seemed at peace. At least it no longer had anything to worry about. At least it didn't have to suffer and struggle anymore.

But the rest of them had to keep going. Like Kafik, they had to press on—even when the world seemed like a strange, dark and unforgiving place, like it wanted them to fail. There was nothing to gain from giving up.

So Charla took a deep breath, turned her eyes to the western horizon, and carried on.


	10. The Forest Alive

**Chapter 10**

 **The Forest Alive**

They stood at the precipice of another world. The fiery glow of evening sunlight could not pass beyond the trees, whose twisted roots were cloaked in mist and shadow. Into the darkness the River Lacrima carried on without pause, until it too was swallowed up by the depths of the forest, guiding them further with only the quiet sound of its murmuring waters.

A strange hush hung over the edge of the woods.

"Time to make camp, I think," said Lance, as they stood upon a hilltop overlooking the fringe of Whisperglade Forest.

"But it's not dark yet!" Charla argued, tearing her eyes from that enormous expanse of trees, which swallowed the horizon and spread like a stain of deep-green ink across the land.

"It will be soon." Lance flicked her with the tip of his wing. "And I don't fancy spending any more nights in there than we absolutely have to."

"Yeah, doesn't look too friendly, does it?" said Nuala with a wry smile.

Charla grimaced and looked back at the edge of the forest. There was certainly a presence about it—a sense of foreboding in the way the sunlight was so suddenly devoured by the darkness between the trees, which seemed, from this vantage point, to go on forever. They stretched from horizon to horizon without break or pause—an ocean of dark green, a barrier between her and the Well of Souls, built by nature and far greater than that ugly wall at Earthsoul. And she knew, as soon as they set foot between those trees, that the misty green darkness would swallow them as swiftly and surely as it did the sunlight.

Beside her, Meredy shivered.

"I've heard too many stories about this place..." she said in a hushed voice. "We really don't want to get lost in there."

"Which is why we're going to follow the river, and why we're not going in there when it's almost dark," said Lance, with a calm certainty that brokered no argument.

Meredy fell silent, but she continued watching the forest with nervous eyes. Charla shivered, but it was not fear that rolled down her spine—it was a tingle of electricity, excitement, anticipation. She was ready to go. She was ready to see what sort of strange creatures lived amongst the trees, to immerse herself in that dark and hazy sense of magic beneath the canopy.

What mysteries lay beyond the fringe of the forest? What new magic had she yet to see?

She was ready for a new adventure. Two days had passed since their encounter with the ape Kafik and his dreadwing, and Charla was growing tired of the rolling green hills. And at last here they stood at the edge of Whisperglade Forest, ready to take the next step towards the Well of Souls.

But that would have to wait until tomorrow.

"Alright," Charla groaned, flopping onto her haunches, "we'll sleep here, then. Since you're so _scared_."

"Glad you see it my way."

Lance smirked and headed down to the riverbank, with Meredy close behind. Nuala hung back.

"Lance is just spooked," she said to Charla in a loud, carrying whisper, "because he knows if there's any hungry monsters in there, he'll be the first to get eaten. You know, since he's the fattest."

"I heard that," he called back.

Charla grinned. Then she cantered down the hillside, kicking up grass, with Nuala close behind.

Hours later, when the sun had long since set and the four of them had settled down for the night, Charla awoke to the sound of scuffling nearby. Tensing, she raised her head and gazed wide-eyed into the darkness—but it was just Meredy. The sky serpent sat rigid, her silhouette outlined by moonlight, her fur matted and ruffled as if she had been rolling in the dirt. In the silence, Charla could hear her heavy breathing.

"Are you okay?" Charla whispered, after checking to make sure Lance and Nuala were sleeping undisturbed.

Meredy jolted and gasped, her head whipping around; Charla could see the whites of her eyes, huge and bright in the darkness. Then she shuddered and slumped in the grass.

"Just a bad dream," she murmured, averting her gaze. "Did I wake you?"

Charla hesitated, remembering a similar night several days ago when the roles had been reversed—when Charla had had the nightmare, and Lance had awoken. Talking to him had helped her then. So maybe...

She took a deep breath. "It's alright. Do you want to talk about it?"

But Meredy shook her head, and Charla's shoulders sagged. So much for that.

Silence fell between them then, and Charla found herself listening to the noises of the night. The gurgling of the river. The rustle of wind over the grasses. The creaking of trees at the edge of the forest. If she listened hard enough, she thought she could hear the distant calling of some nocturnal bird. Shivering a little, she turned her head to follow the river's path into the woods.

How dark and eerie it looked now, in the shadow of night, beneath the staring moons. The pale trees were like bones sprouting from the earth, reaching spindly fingers towards the sky, and their leaves were as black as ink. The river disappeared instantly into the darkness, as though fallen into a gaping void from whence there was no return. And there was a whispering, a misty sigh, that hung as fog upon the fringe—calling her, teasing her, speaking tales of mystery, danger and adventure to be found deep within the yawning woods...

Charla shook herself and pulled her eyes away. When she looked back, she saw that Meredy was gazing the other way—back towards the east, over the rolling hills of the Northern Plains. The wind tussled the fur upon her head. Though she couldn't see Meredy's face or expression, Charla felt suddenly a sense of wistfulness and sadness, as though it had been borne to her upon the breeze.

She shifted uncertainly. "Are you sure you're okay?"

Meredy started again, less violently this time. She turned her gaze back to Charla. "It's fine—I'm sorry. We should go back to sleep."

So saying, she turned her back on Charla and curled up again in the grass, as if that was the end of that. But Charla did not settle. She remained sitting up for several long minutes, wondering what nightmare Meredy might have had and why she refused to speak of it. And then she wondered about Whisperglade Forest, what they would find in there and what would happen tomorrow—and all in all, it was a long time before Charla closed her eyes again.

* * *

"Two rules before we go in," said Lance the next morning, holding up two talons as if he thought they were too stupid to understand. "One: Don't stray from the river unless you absolutely have to. Always know where it is. And two: Stay together. Don't linger, don't lag, and don't run ahead—stay together and keep each other in sight at all times. We don't want to get separated.

"And for the love of our ancestors, don't stir up trouble," he added, giving Charla and Nuala a pointed scowl. "Don't make excessive noise, don't approach wild animals except for prey, and don't touch something if you don't know what it is. What, Charla?"

Charla lowered her wing, which she'd been waving in the air for the last few seconds. School classes at the orphanage in Warfang had taught her that trick.

"Is that a rule, too?" she asked. "Because that makes three rules, not two."

Lance gave her a stony look. "Just be sensible, alright? Use your common sense. We can't have anyone getting lost in there."

"Yeah," Nuala added, speaking in Charla's ear loudly enough for everyone to hear, "or you might never be found again."

Charla shivered, but grinned. Only Meredy looked nervous. She kept shooting flighty looks into the trees, as if she thought something was about to jump out at them. But Charla thought the forest looked much less foreboding in the morning light—it was less eerie and shadowy, and more misty and magical, like it might be home to fairies and nymphs and other unearthly creatures that Charla had read about in _Star Tales_. Lance said they weren't real, but what did he know?

"As long as we stick together and don't act like idiots, we'll be fine," Lance said bracingly, with a meaningful look at Meredy. "With any luck, it'll only take us a few days to get to Lake Qilin. We might be able to fly some of the way, if the river is visible through the canopy..."

"Let's just go already!" Charla cried, unable to contain herself any longer. She was bored of standing around, and Lance might go on forever once he got started. Instead he broke off and gave her a flat look.

"That's what I like to hear!" said Nuala, doing a loop over their heads. "C'mon, Merry, let's see what this forest has to offer!"

Then she took off towards the tree-line and, after a worried look over her shoulder, Meredy followed. Lance sighed and plodded after them, Charla skipping at his side.

"I've never gone into Whisperglade before," he told her, almost as if it were a warning. "I chose to avoid it the last time I came near. So I don't know what to expect. Be cautious."

"Relax, Lance," Charla said, grinning back at him. "It's gotta be better than the desert. Maybe there'll be fairies."

He huffed, but she caught his smile. "Sure, kid. Sure."

Ahead of them, Meredy and Nuala stepped into the shadow of the trees, where their scales and fur were dappled with filtered sunlight, and Charla hurried to catch up. As she left the bright morning sun behind, a coolness enveloped her—like stepping into a pool on a hot summer's day. She flared her nostrils and tasted the scent of the forest, of musty earth, fresh water and damp undergrowth. Thin mist curled around her talons.

With one last glance over her shoulder, past Lance, she saw a final glimpse of the sunny plains beyond the trees—and then she looked forward and breathed deep, inhaling the earth, the forest, and the magic within it.

Then she kicked her legs, leapt over a winding tree root, and raced to the head of the line. The earth was soft and cool underpaw, layered with fallen leaves and pale moss.

"I said don't race ahead!" Lance yelled after her.

"I won't!" she yelled back.

But she did anyway, because it was too exciting and she couldn't help it. She bounded over mossy roots rising gnarled from the forest floor, ducked under low-hanging branches strung with strings of vine and leaves, and her paws pounded in the cool damp leaf-litter at the edge of the river. And it was only when the world began to darken, the trees grew taller, and the sunlight disappeared that she stopped and looked back.

Her friends weren't far behind; Nuala was almost on her tail, and the others were trailing close. But the rolling plains, and the morning sun with them, were lost from view.

Sunlight no longer filtered in golden patterns through the leaves. Instead they stood in a gloomy deep-green world that was damp, silent and enclosed, as if they had found themselves at the bottom of the ocean. Charla craned her head back and saw that the dark canopy was peppered with tiny specks of light, like stars in the night sky. The river rippled through the quiet, its clear waters tainted green and speckled with stolen light. And Charla realised that it had happened—that the forest had swallowed them, just as surely as it had devoured the sun that danced upon the Northern Plains..

From this moment on, they were in the belly of Whisperglade.

"Not nervous, are you?" said Nuala with a teasing grin.

" _No_ ," said Charla, tossing her head, and marched on.

And so they went, deeper still, following the river that flowed sedately alongside them. As they drew further into the forest, Charla became aware of a humid warmth that had not been there before. The air settled like a damp blanket over her scales, and even without the heat of the sun she felt like she had stepped into a place that winter never touched. They were sheltered here from the icy winds that skipped over the open hills, and the air was thick and hot in Charla's mouth.

She liked it. Whisperglade was like its own little world, enclosed and sheltered from everything else. She felt like she had entered a secret place—a place where no one ever went. When she listened hard, she thought she could hear the forest whispering its secrets to her. It knew that she was there.

Soon, it seemed, hours had passed.

They took a break beside the river, at the base of an enormous tree whose roots spread around them like sheltering arms. Charla paddled her muddy forepaws in the water. Very little sunlight made it though the canopy here—only above the river, where the branches of the trees on either side did not quite meet. It dappled the water with pale patterns, and she watched fallen leaves drift along with the current, carrying on into the unknown.

"It's nicer in here than I thought it would be," said Nuala, and Charla turned to see her perched upon an arch of moss-grown root. She looked unnaturally white against the backdrop of the forest.

Meredy, who sat nearby, nodded uncertainly. "It's calm here. It sort of feels peaceful. I thought it would be more..."

She trailed off.

"Creepy?" Nuala supplied, and Meredy gave a weak smile.

Lance just grunted. He was gazing suspiciously away into the green darkness of the trees and he seemed tense. Charla padded over to him.

"We should still keep our guard up," he reminded them grimly. "We've got a long way to go yet, and who knows what predators live deeper in the forest."

"Ah, big guy," said Nuala, flicking her ears, "we can always count on you when we need a ray of sunshine."

He snorted and retorted something, but Charla wasn't listening. She had just spotted something bright and colourful at the base of the tree—small but stark amongst the forest's earthy tones. Tilting her head, she crept up to it.

"Look at this," she said distractedly.

"What?" Lance grunted.

The thing moved, just a little, and Charla jumped. It was alive. She looked closer and saw that it was a bright blue frog, about as big as a single one of her claws, with tiny webbed feet and a scattering of vivid yellow spots. A tiny feathery crest, equally as yellow, crowned its head. It stared at her with one bulging red eye.

"It's a frog." She lifted a paw with half a mind to poke it and see what happened. The frog shifted slightly, as if to face her better. It had funny slanted pupils. "It's really cute, Lance. Look."

She made to touch it, wondering what its glossy skin would feel like under her paw—but then Lance made a strange guttural sound and his claws snapped shut around her tail. With a yelp, Charla was yanked backwards. Just in time. Before her eyes, the frog's incredibly long tongue shot out of its mouth and lashed the air inches from her face. For half a second, she saw it as a whole rainbow of colours—green, red, yellow, blue—before it disappeared back into the frog's gummy jaws.

Gaping, Charla lay sprawled on her stomach in the leaf litter and stared. The frog's feathery crest was vibrating, as if in warning. It turned itself around again, following her movements, its webbed feet sticking to the tree. Its throat bulged.

"For ancestors' sake, Charla!" Lance exclaimed, and she flinched as his paw came down heavily beside her head. "I told you not to touch anything if you don't know what it is!"

"It's just a frog," she said mulishly, pushing herself up again. She pawed away the leaves plastered to her chin. "What can it do?"

"Paralyse you, for a start," Lance growled. "That's a Rainbow Tongue. They're incredibly poisonous, so you don't want to try eating one. And their tongues are coated with a nasty toxin that can paralyse even a full-grown dragon for an hour or two. There's a reason we sometimes call them 'attack frogs.' "

Charla stared at him and then squinted again at the tiny jewel-bright frog. It did seem like it was trying to threaten her; it kept staring at her with those huge red eyes and shaking its crest. Now that she listened closely, she could hear a feathery hissing sound. She narrowed her eyes.

"It doesn't look that dangerous. I think it's cute."

"It is, kinda," said Nuala, who seemed to have appeared out of thin air next to them. Charla jumped. She and Meredy had come over to look—though, like Lance, they hung back.

"I don't care what you think of it," Lance said, rolling his eyes. "Just stay away from it. I don't want to have to lug you through the forest for the next few hours because you got knocked out by a frog."

Charla grinned at the thought. But she did as he said and backed off from the frog, which eventually stopped quivering its head-crest and hopped away into the undergrowth. She was sorry to see it go.

They moved on shortly afterwards, eager to make progress now that they were deep in the bowels of Whisperglade. Charla had become jumpy since the frog, and she kept her eyes peeled for any and all creatures that might be lurking amongst the trees or in the river. She didn't see much—only the occasional glimpse of little furry creatures within the leaves, or ripples in the water from some unseen animal—but she had the strangest feeling that the trees themselves were watching.

Sometimes, out of the corner of her eye, she saw them move—roots slithering like snakes through the grass; great mossy trunks turning as if to watch them pass. The back of her neck began to prickle.

Maybe—she hoped—it was just her imagination.

Hours later still, Charla realised the forest was suddenly darker than it had been before. There was no longer any sunlight trickling through the canopy, and what little sky she could see though the leaves was dark and inky. She could hardly see further than a few trees ahead of her now. The world around her was shrouded in shadow.

They made camp by the river. Charla shivered as they settled down for the night, and she was surprised when Lance asked her to make a fire.

"We'll have to keep watch anyway," he said, as she set about weaving a little ball of flame. "It's too risky to sleep when there might be predators about. But most wild animals here will be afraid of fire; it might ward them off."

She wasn't about to argue with that. It wasn't exactly cold in the forest, but the heat and light of her fire was comforting in a way that nothing else could ever be. Even just that flickering orange glow was enough to make her feel better. The dark and whispering woods weren't _that_ scary...

Meredy did not seem to share the sentiment. Her ears kept flicking and there was a frightened, twitchy look about her face. Every few seconds, her head jerked around, as if she thought there was something lurking behind her. Even Nuala seemed a bit perturbed; her feathers were unusually fluffed out.

"Friendly place, isn't it?" she said with a sort of fake cheeriness, twisting her head around to look into the darkness. They had little by way of shelter—just a cluster of trees looming over them, like sleeping guardians.

Meredy curled her tail around herself.

"I'll take first watch," Lance offered, and no one argued. "Someone can take over after midnight."

"I will," said Charla, who didn't feel very sleepy at all.

Lance just shrugged. They settled down for the night, and Charla shuffled closer to her fire as the darkness deepened around them. She felt wide awake—and the noise didn't help. The forest did not go quiet at night. In fact, it seemed to only get louder. Things whispered and chattered in the darkness, trees creaked and groaned like restless ghosts, and leaves rustled restlessly far overhead. Charla lay with her eyes open for what felt like a long time, her vision filled with blurry fingers of firelight.

But fatigue crept upon her inevitably, and Charla drifted in and out of slumber for what felt like hours. She tossed and turned, and between fits of confused wakefulness, she slept and had strange dreams—dreams about trees with limbs and faces, which moved like graceful animals, like they were more than just leaves and wood.

And then she jerked awake and wondered if she actually _had_ been asleep—if it really _had_ been a dream. Or maybe those trees in the shadows really were moving.

Finally, tired of flopping around in the dirt like a dying fish, Charla got up and swapped places with Lance. While he curled up to sleep, she hugged her fire to her chest and gazed into the whispering night.

Time passed. Sometime between midnight and morning, Charla was startled by the sound of a commotion right next to her. Once again, it was just Meredy. This time, while Meredy composed herself and sat heaving with unsteady gasps, Charla just watched her.

Another nightmare, it must have been. That was two nights in a row. Distractedly, Charla wondered if she was dreaming about jackals, too.

But Charla hadn't dreamed about jackals since they'd left the mountains and made it out of their territory, so that didn't make sense.

It was a few seconds before Meredy calmed enough to raise her head, and only then did their eyes meet. They gazed at one another across the fire, and Meredy's eyes looked hollow and frightened in its light. After a moment, she gave a weak smile and turned her back on Charla. Then she settled again, curled herself around Nuala, and once more Charla was the only one left awake.

The forest hooted and howled around her. It would be a long night.

* * *

Somehow, in spite of Charla's nerves, the night passed without incident. It was still unusually dark when they moved on again, and Charla lit their way with fire until the midmorning sun found its way through the canopy. But even after the sun had returned, and the forest was again aglow with mossy green light, Charla remained jumpy.

She was almost convinced now that the trees were watching them. Every now and then, she caught flashes of movement from the corner of her eye—but when she turned to look, she saw nothing.

 _I'm imagining it_ , she told herself firmly, as she fell back to walk with Nuala and let Lance and Meredy take the lead. He was talking to the sky serpent in a low voice, and she looked a little unhappy. Charla thought she heard something about magic and resolved to ask Lance about it later.

Nuala flicked Charla's hind legs with her tail when she fell into step beside her, making her jump.

"Ain't that sweet," Nuala said, gesturing at their friends with a flick of her wing. "She's got him wrapped around her dewclaw. Didn't know she had it in her."

Charla just gave her a befuddled look.

"I'm kinda impressed, you know," Nuala added with a small grin. "She's finally putting in the effort to get her magic back. I wasn't sure she'd ever do it. I guess meeting you two was exactly what she needed."

"I guess..."

"What about you?" Nuala asked, looping around Charla's head and grinning at her from the other side. "Have you thought about working on your magic, too? I mean, you're already great with your fire stuff and all, but I bet you could get even better if you practiced. And, y'know...you might need it when we get to the Well."

Charla faltered and looked up at her, taken off-guard. She _hadn't_ thought about that before—at least, not since leaving Warfang. But what was she supposed to practice in the first place? She'd already taught herself that little fire-orb trick. What else _was_ there?

Maybe if she still had access to the Warfang Library and all the books and scrolls in the Elemental Tower, she might have been able to figure something out, but that was sure out of the question.

"Just an idea," Nuala said, when Charla failed to respond. "Something to think about, anyway. I'll help you if I can—just ask me."

Charla nodded slowly, her thoughts beginning to buzz with this new idea. Maybe Lance would know a few elemental techniques that would work for fire, too...

For the next short while, Charla happily passed the time discussing with Nuala what she could possibly practice and improve upon with her fire-breathing. They came up with a few ideas, and Charla was so eager that she almost forgot to be nervous about the constantly moving forest around them. By the time they stopped for a midday break and a drink from the river, she felt quite calm.

She was sitting at the edge of the water, paddling her paws between the reeds and telling Nuala how it felt to use a fury, when Meredy called out and pointed. Charla's head jerked up. A tiny snake had just slithered down from the bank on the other side of the river—and instead of slipping into the water, it began to glide along the surface as if it were made of glass. Charla stared.

It was a bright, pale blue, with a pointed snout and a body only as long as her foreleg and as thin as one of her claws. Mesmerised, she watched it slide over the river, its tiny tongue flickering in and out of its mouth, just like a naga in miniature.

"Cute," Nuala murmured beside her. "A waterwinder. It's probably looking for bugs."

Charla opened her mouth to ask how it could possibly be gliding over the surface of the water like that, but she stopped. Something else had just appeared, bobbing above the river, bright and shining through the forest gloom. It was a little ball of fire—but it was not like the fire that she was used to. It was a vivid, acidic green, almost yellow at its heart, and it reminded her with a wistful pang of the flames that had burned on the candlewicks in Silverback's den.

Where had it come from? It was just hovering there, inches above the water, throwing dazzling patterns of light that rippled and flowed around it. Charla could only stare, calmed suddenly by the flickering fire, as if it were an old friend she hadn't seen in ages. She kind of wanted to swim out and touch it...

Through the warm haze that had descended over her eyes, she noticed the waterwinder had seen the fire too. Like her, it turned its head to look, tasting the air with its tongue. Then, it began to slither forwards. Slowly, almost dreamily, it approached the verdant flame, its head swaying side-to-side as though entranced by the shimmering light.

Unconsciously, Charla leaned forwards as well. Her forelegs sank into the reeds.

And the water exploded.

An enormous creature erupted out of the centre of the river, throwing a volcano of water and moss into the air. Charla screamed and scrambled back, and Lance thundered to her side, flaring his wings out in defence—but the little snake was not so lucky. In a flash, the monster's gaping jaws snapped down on its twisting, struggling body, and at once it became as limp and still as a piece of old rope. Then, snarling around its prey, the creature twisted violently and bared its fangs at Lance. He snarled back.

In a flash of motion, it turned and scrambled up onto the opposite bank, the snake swinging from its jaws. Charla just stared, her heart thundering against her ribcage.

The river monster was easily as big as Lance, with a smooth streamlined body covered in slick brown fur, and a flat triangular head. Its huge clawed paws were webbed between the toes, and from its back and head grew patches of moss and strands of river weed—the sort of weed she'd seen floating inconspicuously on the surface of the river.

It had been there all this time, and she'd had no idea.

Struck dumb by fear and horror, Charla said not a word as the monster narrowed its beady black eyes and, with a lash of its thick tail, vanished into the underbrush on the other side of the river. In a moment it was gone, the hapless snake with it, leaving nothing but the sound of the bushes rustling in its wake.

Charla exhaled shakily.

The little green orb of fire had disappeared. The river was still again.

"Well, that was nice," said Nuala.

"What _was_ that?" Charla breathed, her heart still pounding.

"Bulrush," Lance growled, folding his wings again. "A type of water boggart—predatory imps. They use illusion magic to confuse their prey and lure it in, as we just saw. You usually find bulrushes in swamp water, but I guess they like it here too."

"I thought I sensed illusion magic," Nuala muttered, gazing at the spot where the bulrush had disappeared. "Creepy thing."

Meredy was trembling; she looked like she'd lost her voice. Charla felt a bit like that, too.

"Best not to get too close to the river from now on," Lance said, shaking his head. He gave Charla a meaningful look. "And keep your wits about you if you see anything else weird. Don't let yourself be fooled. Figures there would be boggarts here..."

Huffing to himself, he moved on, with Meredy hurrying to stay close to his side. Charla stumbled after them. She'd never even _heard_ of a boggart before—or a bulrush or whatever Lance had called it—and she didn't think she ever wanted to see another one. It looked almost big enough to eat _her_!

Shuddering, she hurried to keep up.

But now, with that encounter behind them, Charla was even jumpier than before. Every small movement made her flinch and turn her head. The darkness of the forest seemed to press in on her. Were those branches reaching for her or was she just imagining it? She struggled to keep it together.

If there were bulrush boggarts in the river, what else was there in the forest?

What other creatures were here that were big enough to consider her prey?

She didn't want to know.

It didn't help that, in her flighty nervousness, she kept falling behind the others. Eventually, just to calm herself, she lit a small orb of fire to keep her company and to hold the darkness at bay. It floated ahead of her like a small helpful fairy, casting a warm and friendly light upon her surroundings, and Charla relaxed a little.

She was _not_ being followed. The trees were _not_ moving. They did _not_ have eyes.

But still she jumped and twisted around when something moved beyond the pool of her firelight. This happened several times, and each time Charla made her fire-orb a little bit bigger—until Lance finally yelled out to her.

"Charla! Don't lag behind." He paused to wait for her.

Seeing that he was further ahead than she'd realised—and the others were even further than that—Charla picked up her pace. "Uh...coming!"

Apparently satisfied, Lance started to turn away again. But Charla never reached him.

Just as he walked away—just as Charla stopped thinking about the things moving in the shadows—a flash of motion flickered darkly in the corner of her eye. Charla skidded to a halt and spun around. The glow of her flames spread across the leaf litter and into the trees. The breath froze in her throat.

A tree was looking at her.

A _tree_ was _looking_ at her.

She could see the enormous amber eyes upon its woody face, sparkling with fire, gazing straight at her.

And then it giggled.

Charla gaped. Before her eyes, the tree extended a slender hand with long, twiggy fingers—and beckoned to her. Her heart gave a funny leap.

As the tree moved, stepping away from her fire and gesturing for her to follow, she stared at its strange and impossible form. It had long slender legs and arms, and a dainty round face with huge eyes set into the bark. Leaves grew from the top of its head and rippled down its back, almost like fur or hair. It must have been as tall as a cheetah or a puma.

It moved like a cheetah, too. Charla watched as it started to walk away. It took long, graceful steps, its leaves rustling with every movement—and suddenly Charla just couldn't help herself. She stepped after it.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, the voice of reason urged her to back away and call for Lance, but she didn't. A strange fog had rolled in behind her eyes, muffling that voice, cloaking her thoughts, and suddenly it didn't seem to matter that she was alone in a strange forest—that Lance had moved on and unwittingly left her behind. It didn't matter where she was or what she was supposed to be doing or even _who_ she was.

Nothing mattered. Nothing except this creature of the trees.

Her fire bobbed ahead of her, lighting the way. The tree-creature giggled again. Then it broke into a run, bounding gracefully through the other still and silent trees, away into the darkness of the forest. Charla didn't stop to think. She didn't need to. A sudden desperation seized her by the chest, by the heart, and she knew then that she couldn't let it get away—that she was _meant_ to follow it. She had to.

And so she charged after it.

She ran through the forest, leaping high over arching roots and mossy clusters of stone, slipping on the leaf litter but always keeping her feet. Fire flowed in her wake, throwing rippling golden light upon the trees around her—and the tree-creature was always just ahead of her, glancing back with a teasing smile on its face, making sure she was following. Something in Charla's chest began to lift. She felt like laughing.

"Wait for me!" she cried, grinning as she leapt up a steep incline and charged between two enormous trees.

Another feathery giggle floated back to her, like the sound of wind rustling in the leaves. At the edge of her vision, Charla noticed that they were not alone. There were more tree-creatures—they appeared elegantly out of the darkness, bright-eyed and smiling, and they too leapt gracefully through the forest just ahead of her.

Charla pushed herself. She ran and ran, laughing breathlessly, fire in her eyes—and nothing else seemed to matter. This was _fun_. She wanted to do this forever. She wanted to catch them and then—and then... She didn't know. One way or another, the game would continue.

First, she had to catch them.

But just as she was gaining on them—just as she could see their bark-like skin shining with her firelight—the trees opened out before her. Wide-eyed and open-mouthed, Charla skidded to a halt.

They were in a great clearing. Mossy grass spread out over the earth, dappled with late afternoon sunlight that filtered golden through gaps in the canopy. And in the centre, gathered around a glistening pool at the base of a tall outcrop of stone, were more tree-creatures. Charla heard the faint whisper of a small waterfall.

Breathless, she stepped forward. The tree-creatures she had been chasing moved to join their fellows, who turned and stared. They gazed at her, and their eyes were huge and curious. Slowly, almost reverently, Charla walked towards them. Fire bobbed above her head. The creatures gazed at her in wonder.

And somewhere in the back of Charla's mind, a memory surfaced. Her dazzled head cleared a little.

"You're nymphs," she murmured. "Dryads. Tree nymphs. I read about you."

She suddenly became aware again of the weight of her satchel, heavy on her withers. She had seen these creatures in _Star Tales._ They were keepers of the trees, guardians of the forest...and tricksters to travellers. Many a lost traveller had blamed dryads for his misfortune, to the point where they had become known to dragons as mischievous and untrustworthy.

But the book had also said that no proof of their existence had ever been found or recorded. According to _Star Tales_ , dryads were just a myth. A story. Like the tatzelwyrm and the magisiccus and the purple dragon...

But those huge amber eyes that gazed upon her with awe and wonder—and those spindly fingers that reached out to touch her scales like they were precious gems—seemed very real to Charla. Her heart was beating in her throat. They didn't seem to want to cause her harm. In fact, in spite of their wonder, they almost seemed _afraid_. Some tried to reach out to her fire-orb as if to touch it, but they drew back quickly with startled, frightened eyes. Every time she moved, the dryads flinched and shrank back.

Charla felt that just breathing too loudly might make them scatter. She tried to breathe shallowly.

"Are you scared of fire?" she whispered, willing the orb down into her paws. The dryads drew away and then gathered in again, crowding in the firelight, their eyes glistening. Charla held it out to them and they pulled back again.

"I guess you don't see it much here," she said, gazing around her with as much awe as they seemed to have for her. There had to be at least twenty of them—but it was too hard to count. They gathered and swayed around her, like a ripple upon the surface of a lake. "It won't hurt you. I control it."

She opened her claws and the fire curled snakelike around them. Some of the dryads stumbled back, but a few gazed in apparent amazement. One tried to reach out to touch the flames, but Charla pulled away. Its fingers were made of bark and wood. It would probably go up in flames far too easily.

"It'll burn you if you're not careful, though," she told them, and many shrank back with strange whispering noises that sounded like frightened muttering to her ears. Reluctantly, she put the fire out. The dryads seemed to sag in disappointment.

"Sorry," Charla said, rubbing her foreleg. "I don't want to accidently hurt someone. Um..."

She paused. The dryads were still staring at her—all of them—and slowly they started to press in again, their twiggy fingers reaching out to touch her. Charla shifted uneasily, hugging her wings to her flanks. She turned her head, but there were no gaps in the crowd—no easy way to escape. Something akin to panic began to rise in her chest.

What did they want from her?

Wait...

How far had she come from the others?

Stifling a gasp, Charla spun around. She'd completely lost her head—she'd run away from Lance and the others without even thinking about it! What was _wrong_ with her? What if they couldn't find her? What if she couldn't find _them_? What if... What if...

What if she was lost in the forest forever?

Where was the _river_? Lance had said not to leave the river!

Panicking now, Charla tried to push her way through the crowding dryads, but they wouldn't let her. Their slender hands grabbed at her—stroking her scales and her horns, prodding at her face, as if they were searching for something. Charla jerked away, but she didn't get far. She was surrounded. All she could see were leaves and bark.

"Let me go!" she cried, struggling to pull her wing out of one's grip. "I have to get back to my friends!"

A ripple pulsed through the crowd, but the dryads did not pull away. Instead they started to whisper something—a word that Charla had never heard before. It hissed inside her head, begging, begging, and the dryads swayed around her, chanting it over and over again. Fire rose unbidden in her throat.

"Stop it!" she begged, jerking her head back. She didn't want to _hurt_ them. "Let go of me!"

The dryads didn't even seem to hear. Flames licked at the back of Charla's throat. They weren't going to let her go. There was no other way.

But before she could so much as open her jaws, the dryads gasped and pulled back. They stumbled away from Charla, spinning around on graceful legs, and she staggered in surprise.

She was free. She could escape.

But she didn't move—because something else had entered the clearing. She didn't know what, but she knew that it was there. There was a faint glow at the edge of her vision, like sunlight breaking through the trees, and it had not been there before. An indescribable presence fell over the clearing. The dryads had gone utterly silent.

Holding her breath, Charla turned.

She could not have imagined what she saw.

Standing there upon the crown of the outcrop above the pool, glowing like starlight in the night, stood a creature the likes of which she had never seen. It was many things, and it was none of them. It was a dragon in the shape of its face and the iridescent green scales that glistened upon its willowy form. It was a deer in the slender, dainty legs it carried itself upon, and in the incredible antlers that branched out upon its brow. It was a sky serpent in the flowing mane of pale fur that rippled down its spine, and in the long snake-like tail curling behind it.

It was all of those things and it was none of them. It stood as tall as a full-grown dragon, its antlers strewn with tiny white flowers, the edges of its graceful body glowing with pale greenish-white light. Its eyes, like pools of molten gold, gazed straight at her.

Charla couldn't breathe. She didn't know what she was looking at—she wasn't even sure she wanted to know. In equal parts, she wanted to run to it and flee from it. She wanted to gaze upon it in awe and tear her eyes away in fear. Her heart felt that it might burst to be in such a creature's incredible presence.

Magic lashed like lightning through the air—charged, dangerous, and powerful. Charla felt it on her tongue and in her lungs. She felt it burn the edges of her eyes, but she couldn't close them. She was trapped. She was frozen.

But that moment lasted only a second.

With a powerful, graceful bound, the creature leapt from the top of the outcrop—and with that single leap, it cleared almost the entirety of the clearing. It soared over the pool and over the heads of the dryads, and then it hit the grass on the other side of them with only the faintest pounding of hooves. And then it was gone, like a glowing wraith into the trees, galloping into the gloom of the forest and out of sight. A flicker of warm light rippled in its wake, almost like fire.

Even long after it had gone, Charla didn't move. The dryads, too, were still.

She could hear her own heart beating, thumping a rhythm in her chest. She didn't know what had happened. What had she just seen?

What had that been?

But she had no time to think or collect herself. The dryads were starting to move again. Charla heard their whispered, unintelligible murmurings—saw them start to turn back towards her—and rising panic brought her back to her senses. She had to get away now, while she still had the chance.

She took a step back.

And somewhere in the distance, a guttural voice cried out through the trees.

"Charla! Charla, answer me!"

Charla gasped and spun around. A thundering of paws was racing through the forest now—the crashing of something huge blazing through the undergrowth—growing closer, ever closer. Her heart leapt.

"Lance!" she cried, and she raced towards the trees at the edge of the clearing. He was there even before she reached them.

Wild-eyed and unrestrained, he thundered into the clearing and Charla didn't wait for him to get to her. She flung herself at him with enough force to halt him in his tracks, flinging her paws around his neck and pushing her head against his chest. Lance braced himself by flinging his wings out, his sides heaving with loud, heavy breaths.

"Are you okay?" His huge paws clasped her shoulders. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine, I'm okay!" Charla said breathlessly, pulling back to look at him. His nostrils were flaring and his eyes were still wild—but as she watched, his grip on her loosened and that seemed to ease.

"How did you find me?" she asked before he could say anything else.

Lance exhaled heavily and jerked his muzzle to the side, indicating something behind him. "Meredy."

Charla craned her head around him and saw, panting and limping slowly, Meredy approaching through the trees. Nuala flew above her head, her face taut. But before Charla could so much as call out to them, Lance's grip on her shoulders tightened again.

"What were you doing?" he insisted, his eyes flashing like fired steel. "What were you _thinking_? How did you get so far away from us? Why?"

"I didn't mean to! I was tricked! The dryads confused me—I didn't realise what I was doing!"

"Dryads?" Lance echoed, staring at her like she'd lost her mind. "What do you mean _dryads_? There's no such thing."

Charla looked incredulously at him. "Of course there is! They're right behind me—don't you see—"

But she broke off suddenly, because when she turned back to the clearing, it was not dryads she saw. Instead, surrounding the pool, standing still and inconspicuous, was a cluster of tall spindly trees. Charla gazed in disbelief. They did not have faces or eyes, or limbs or hair made of leaves—they were just normal trees, as silent and inanimate as they were ever meant to be.

How?

Had they turned themselves into trees? Could they do that?

Flustered, she stumbled towards the nearest one, intent on finding out—but Lance held her back.

"I don't know about dryads," he said, his paw heavy on her shoulder, "but clearly _something_ fooled you. There's a lot of weird magic in this forest. You probably just got caught up in some creature's illusion magic."

"Another boggart, maybe?" suggested Nuala, who had finally caught up. Beside her, Meredy was still gasping for breath and couldn't seem to speak.

"Maybe," said Lance. "It's certainly more likely than dryads."

Charla swallowed dryly and said nothing. Could that really be true? Could it all have been just an illusion? But it had looked and felt so _real_ , and she didn't want to think that she had just imagined everything. She wanted the dryads to be real.

"It's probably a good thing we found you when we did. Some creature might have been about to make you its dinner." Lance gave her a grim, disapproving look. "How many times do I have to tell you not to run off on your own? I _told_ you to watch out for anything that looked weird. We could have lost you!"

"I'm sorry." Charla curled her tail and glowered at her paws. "I didn't _mean_ to. I wasn't thinking..."

"Give her a break," said Nuala. "Illusion magic has fooled older and wiser dragons than her. Just be glad we actually _found_ her. We might not have without Meredy."

Meredy's cheeks coloured and she looked away, as if trying to hide her meek little smile.

Lance sighed. "Right. At least there's that. Thanks, Meredy. Now we just need to..."

He trailed off, gazing into the dark trees behind them, his brow furrowed. Charla and the others looked at him.

"To what?" asked Nuala.

"Get back to the river," he grunted. He looked back at them. "I didn't think about that."

Charla stared into the forest gloom and understood immediately. She had no idea where the river was, or how far she had come from it. She couldn't even hear it anymore—just the gentle murmuring of the small waterfall over the pond. Clearly the others hadn't considered that, either, when they'd come racing after her.

Lance looked at Meredy. "Do you think you can help us get back?"

She hesitated, her eyes darting into the darkness. "Um... Maybe? Using windsense on something that isn't alive—something that doesn't _breathe_ —is a bit tricky... But I can try."

"It's better than nothing," Lance said, though he didn't look pleased.

Nuala shot him a swift, nasty look and said brightly, "Of course you can do it, Merry!"

Meredy just blushed and turned back the way they'd come, her tail swishing agitatedly. Charla shared a look with Lance before following. As the four of them left the clearing and stepped again into the shadows between the trees, she couldn't help gazing back over her shoulder. But the trees that had once been dryads remained still and lifeless. And as for the other creature... It was long gone.

Disappointment settled in her stomach. But still she could feel a tingle of magic on her tongue, as if the air was charged with it, left behind in that incredible creature's wake. She took a calming breath and looked up at Lance.

"I saw something else back there. There was some kind of animal there, right before you came."

Lance raised an eyebrow. "Did it look like a boggart?"

Charla shook her head. She wasn't even sure she could describe it. "It was...different. I've never seen anything like it before. It was like a dragon—it had scales and everything—but it had no wings, and it had hooves and these really long legs. And there were these _huge_ antlers on its head, and there were even flowers growing on them."

She lifted a paw to her forehead, spreading out her claws to pretend they were the prongs of a magnificent pair of antlers. Her scales shivered with the memory of it.

"I think...it must have been really magical," she said, gazing at the canopy far above their heads. "There was so much magic in the air... It was amazing. I wonder what it was..."

Lance was silent for a long moment, and when Charla looked at him he was just gazing at her with his brows knitted together. Finally, he turned his face away.

"Just part of the illusion, probably," he murmured. "Something to confuse you. Don't think about it too much."

But Charla did think about it, and the impossible creature remained rooted in her mind for hours afterwards. What it was, she couldn't fathom. But she knew, somehow, that she had laid eyes upon something that few had ever seen, that perhaps was never even meant to be seen. A creature of incredible magic—magic far greater than that of even the strongest dragons.

And she, only she, had basked in its presence.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 **Weh heh heh, you thought you got rid of me, but I came _back!_ I know, I know, you're horrified.**

 **I swear I've been doing stuff these past two months. I rewrote a single chapter like 5 times again (I need to stop doing that). Oh, and I moved to the other side of the world. That's also a thing I did. But now I am back with the writing mojo and trying to get myself used to the mindset that 'no, everything I write is, in fact,** _not_ **a piece of shit.' It's a bit difficult, but I'm getting there. (That's also why there was no A/N last chapter, because every time I tried to write one it was horribly self-deprecating. I need to stop.)**

 **This chapter's a weird one. Charla met Xerneas or something, I dunno. Hope you enjoyed it one way or another! Thanks for reading! If you're ever curious about my progress and want to know where the next chapter is, just poke your head into my profile. There's usually a semi-recent update there. BYE.**


	11. A Silver Path

**Chapter 11**

 **A Silver Path**

They were lost.

Charla could see it, even if everyone else refused to. For all she could tell, they were walking in circles. Meredy kept stopping and starting, turning her head this way and that, always with that same anxious look on her face, and Charla just _knew_ she had no idea where she was taking them. The forest seemed very dark.

How long had it been since they'd left the clearing of dryads? Charla didn't know, but she was sure that the river hadn't been _this_ far away.

But everyone just kept going, unspeaking, trusting that Meredy would be able to lead them back. Charla's scales burned with impatience. In fact, her whole body felt like it was burning. The forest was so hot she thought she might melt—and now they were completely lost and Charla just wanted to _scream_.

Finally, she couldn't take it anymore.

"We're going the wrong way, aren't we?" she snapped, halting in the muddy leaf litter between trees. "We're _lost_."

Everyone else stopped, and Lance gave her a reproachful look. "You don't know that. We can't be far from the river now."

"Yeah, just let Merry guide us," said Nuala, as if it were as simple as that.

"We have no idea where the river is! _She_ has no idea where it is!" Charla stamped a paw, spraying mud up the front of her forelegs, and hissed in disgust. "Meredy doesn't even know where she's going! She's leading us nowhere!"

Meredy looked stung.

"I'm trying my best," she said, shrinking back as everyone turned to her. "But it's so hard to sense anything here. There's not much wind in the forest, you know... Everything's so still."

"You found _me_ ," Charla pointed out mulishly, scowling.

"Because I sensed your breathing! Rivers don't breathe, Charla! I'm _trying_!"

"Look—" Lance started, but Charla didn't let him finish.

Her blood was boiling. She was so _frustrated_ with this. She was frustrated with _everything_. Of course Meredy would make excuses!

"Well, maybe you wouldn't have such a problem if you could just use magic _properly_ ," she spat, and Meredy's eyes went wide.

"Hey!" Nuala snapped, drowning out whatever stammered excuse Meredy had started to say. "Don't talk to her like that! You're the one who got us lost in the first place, _Char_. I don't see _you_ making yourself useful."

Charla puffed up like a bullfrog. Her hackles rose, fire flashed in her eyes, and heat blazed through her face and all the way down to the tip of her tail. She was burning up—flames were licking at the edges of her scales.

"Oh sure!" she heard herself cry, her voice cracking with barely restrained anger. "Blame me for everything! Blame me for getting tricked like the big stupid kid I am! It's all my fault! Everything's my fault! Let's all blame Charla because she's so _dumb_!"

Meredy just gaped at her, and even Nuala looked startled. Charla lashed her tail, gritting her teeth against the rising burn in her throat. She wanted to spit fire in their stupid faces. This was all _their_ fault—thinking they could trust Meredy with something like this when she couldn't even use magic properly.

Now they were lost in the middle of this stupid forest, and it was so damn _hot_!

"Charla."

" _What_?!" she snarled, whipping around to glare at Lance, flames jumping from her nostrils.

He just looked at her, a frown shadowing his forehead. His voice remained calm. "What's going on with you? You're not like this. Come here."

He beckoned, but Charla stayed where she was, wishing she could set him on fire with her eyes. Lance sighed and stepped forward himself, ignoring the way she jerked back from his touch. But just as his paw brushed the edge of her shoulder, something strange happened. A little tongue of flame— _real flame_ —leapt from her scales and curled around his talons. He snatched his paw back with a hiss.

Charla stared. She wasn't just imagining it. There really were tiny fires licking and curling away from her burning body and into the muggy air, all of their own accord.

Lance's frown deepened. "You're burning up. You're completely overloaded. What happened? You didn't run into any spirit gems while you were gone, did you?"

Another spark of irritation burned through her chest. "I don't even know what you're _talking_ about. I haven't seen a spirit gem in ages. Stop changing the subject!"

"No." Lance fixed her with a stern, steady look, like a wall of stone in the face of her fire. "You're not thinking clearly, kid. I don't know how it happened, but you've completely overloaded your mana pool. You're so full of magic that it's leaking out of you. Look, come with me for a moment."

Charla just glared at him. Part of her wanted to be interested in what he was saying—maybe, deep down, she was—but the rest of her just didn't care. She was just _too hot_ and she wanted to _burn_ something.

"Maybe you should do what he says, Char," Nuala said behind her. "You're not acting like yourself."

Charla gritted her teeth, but Lance interrupted before she could spit out a retort. "Just come over here, Charla. Trust me. I know how to fix it."

"Fix what?" Charla spat, but she trudged after him anyway, leaving Nuala and Meredy behind without so much as a backwards glare.

"We won't go far," Lance called back to them. "Just stay put for a moment."

Then he led her into the trees, back the way they'd come, and paid no attention to her angry stomping footsteps. She glared at his back as they went, hissing fire between her teeth and wishing she could just burn this whole damn forest to the ground. At least they wouldn't be lost _then_.

"Here," said Lance abruptly, stopping at the edge of a small clearing in the trees. "I thought I remembered seeing this earlier."

Curious in spite of herself, Charla crept out of the trees to see what he was talking about—and then stared flatly. There was nothing in the clearing except a big mossy outcrop of stone with a tall flat face. Perfectly ordinary. Perfectly boring.

"Why did you take me to see a rock? What's a _rock_ going to do?"

"Nothing," he said calmly. "I just want you to breathe fire at it."

Charla stared at him like he was stupid. "Why?"

"Because if I let you breathe fire at the trees, the whole forest might go up."

She just glared at him. He was making fun of her, wasn't he?

Lance sighed. "Look, just do it, kid. Trust me. You'll feel better."

"Fine," Charla snapped, turning to face the outcrop. "But not because you _told_ me to."

He ignored that. Baring her fangs, Charla stared hard at that boring face of stone and tried to imagine it as the biggest, ugliest ape she could. It was surprisingly easy. Then she pulled back her head, let the flames rush into her mouth, and fired.

She aimed for a single fireball. What came out was much more.

Charla staggered and almost fell backwards as a spray of flames and tiny white-hot fireballs exploded from her jaws, blazed through the air, and impacted the rock with a deafening, bone-rattling roar. Smoke and embers flew in all directions. Charla's tongue was _on fire_. But it didn't stop there.

It was as if she'd opened the lid on something that had been straining to escape—and now she couldn't have stopped it if she'd wanted to. Fire burned through her body and into her mouth, and she didn't try to hold it back. _More_ fireballs, _more_ flames, _more_ explosions—Charla screwed her eyes shut and fired until there was nothing left, until her throat was raw and smoke was rising in great black plumes through the canopy.

Only then, gasping for breath, did she stagger back and stop.

Lance was silent. Chest heaving, Charla stared at what she had done. The face of stone was cracked and blackened, the moss completely burned away from its ledges, and tiny embers were still flickering in the leaf litter at its base. Unspeaking, Lance stepped forward and stomped them out.

"Feeling better?" he asked, turning back to her.

Charla just gazed at him, and slowly she came back to her senses.

She did feel better. She felt drained, and yet there was still fire in her belly—as if she had somehow not used all of it up. All of the anger had bled out of her body; she wasn't even sure she remembered _why_ she'd been angry. The burning feeling was gone. Standing there in the leaf litter, watching smoke rise from the blackened outcrop, she suddenly felt very stupid.

Then something came crashing through the undergrowth towards them, and before Charla could say anything, Meredy and Nuala came bursting into the clearing. Their eyes were wide and startled, as if something had been chasing them—but when they saw Charla and Lance, they seemed to relax.

"What's going on?" Nuala exclaimed, hovering over to them. "We heard explosions! What'd you do to that rock?"

"Just a bit of element therapy," Lance said calmly, as if what had happened was nothing out of the ordinary. "Alright, kid?"

Charla nodded slowly. "Y...yeah. I feel better. Um...why did that happen?"

She glanced sidelong at Meredy, who quickly averted her eyes, and felt her stomach gurgle with guilt. Why had she yelled at her again? She'd said something pretty nasty, hadn't she?

But before she could think of how to apologise, Lance responded.

"In basic terms, you absorbed so much magic that your body couldn't hold it all in and it started leaking out of you. As a nice side-effect, it seems like it made you somewhat angry. Typical fire magic." He gave her a wry smile. "All you had to do to fix it was get the excess magic out of your system. Which is what you just did.

"But as for where you got all this magic from..." The frown returned to his face. "That's what I don't understand. You're sure you haven't absorbed any spirit gems lately? That's the most common way to do it—to overdose on gems."

But Charla could only shake her head. What she'd said before was true. She hadn't seen any spirit gems for ages—not since she'd used those few shards back in Pyreflight. She didn't think the dream at Lake Crystellus counted, either—and even that seemed so long ago.

The only thing she could think of was...

"That creature..." She looked up at Lance. "That animal I saw, back where the dryads were. When it was near me, I felt like I was going to explode with all of that magic! That must have been it!"

Far from looking pleased that she'd solved the mystery so quickly, Lance considered her in silence. Maybe he thought she was mad. But then he shook his head and shrugged.

"I guess it's the only explanation we've got. Even if it leaves more questions than answers..." He huffed and looked her in the eyes again. "Whatever the case, it's fixed now. So let's just figure out what to do next." His gaze turned on Meredy, whose whole face flushed with colour. "Do you think you can find the river again? Be honest. We won't be angry."

"Of course she can!" Nuala snapped, but Charla was watching Meredy.

Very slowly, as if the act of doing so physically pained her, Meredy shook her head. She seemed to shrink before them, like she wanted to disappear into the leaf litter and escape their staring eyes. Her voice was very small.

"No," she whispered. "I don't know where the river is. Charla is right."

Lance sighed. Charla swallowed. Any other time, she might have felt a bit smug to hear those words, but now she just felt guilty. She hadn't meant what she'd said to Meredy—at least, not the mean things.

"Merry..." Nuala started, sinking down to her level, but Meredy shook her head again.

"I can't, Nuala. I tried. I really did. But we're lost, and my windsense can't help us this time. I'm sorry."

Nuala pursed her lips. She stared into Meredy's face for what seemed like ages, her wings beating just fast enough to keep her afloat, and finally she just shrugged. Meredy looked relieved.

"Oh well," said Nuala, spinning around to face Lance instead. "Can't be helped. So what's the plan, big guy?"

He glowered. "Why are you asking me?"

"Because you like to be in charge. And also because it's easy to blame you when things go wrong." She smiled sweetly and then settled on Meredy's head between her horns. Meredy didn't even blink. Nuala waved a paw at Lance. "So go on, then. Make with the clever ideas."

"Why don't _you_ come up with a good idea for once?" he snapped, bristling at her nonchalance. "Since you were so adamant about coming with us. Make yourself useful, damn fox."

"Well, excuse me, lord jerk-face. I've had plenty of good ideas; you're just too stupid to remember. Whose idea was it to sneak into Earthsoul and get supplies? Oh yeah— _me_. And it looks like we're gonna need them soon, too, if we don't figure out where we are."

Lance started to retort, but Charla cut in before he could get a word out. She'd been looking around at their surroundings for the last few moments, and she was pretty sure she'd figured out their biggest problem. With all of these huge trees so close-knit around them, they couldn't see very far in any direction. But if they were _above_ the trees...

"What if we flew up to see where we are?" she suggested, pointing a wing towards the canopy. "Maybe we'd even be able to see the river."

"Not possible," Lance grunted, without even stopping to think about it. "The canopy's too dense. We'd never get up there without injuring our wings—and then we'd be in trouble."

"But...!" Charla wracked her brains, desperate to convince him. "But I could climb up there! I won't fly!"

"Don't be daft," Lance snapped. "You'd probably slip and fall—and then you'd hurt more than your wings. Forget about it. None of us could..."

He trailed off. Charla stared at him. So did Nuala and Meredy.

"Actually," he said, turning to look at Nuala, "you could. You're a better flier than any of us. And you're small, too. Just fly up there and crawl through the canopy, and you can tell us what you see. You don't even need to find the river—although that would be good. Just tell us which way is south and we'll head in that direction."

Nuala huffed. "Make me do everything, why don't you. Fine. But only because it was Charla's idea."

She stood up on Meredy's head and spread her feathered wings again. Meredy seemed to brace herself.

"Back in a jiffy!" Nuala cried, and she leapt towards the canopy with a small kick and a powerful flap.

Meredy flinched as the rush of air ruffled her fur, then craned her head back. "Be careful, Nu!"

There was no response. Like a ghost rising into the night, Nuala's pale form glided up into the dark canopy and quickly disappeared from view. Charla tilted her head back until it hurt, trying to see where she'd gone, but it was hopeless. The forest ceiling had swallowed her whole. All they could do now was wait.

And so they waited in silence—until Charla got bored and her wandering eyes settled on Meredy. Meredy just smiled weakly and averted her gaze to the forest floor. But Charla was determined.

"Sorry," she said quietly, kind of hoping that Lance wouldn't hear. "I mean...about the things I said earlier. I didn't mean it."

Meredy nodded, shuffling her paws in the leaf litter. "It's okay. I know you weren't yourself."

She didn't sound very convinced, and she still looked somehow downtrodden, but Charla didn't know what else to say. Maybe she'd feel better when they weren't lost anymore.

Speaking of which... Charla looked up again, and sure enough Nuala was coming back down towards them, gliding effortlessly between the tangled boughs. It was hard to tell if she looked pleased or not. But as she came to a hover above their heads, the first thing she said was, "Well, I didn't find the river."

Meredy seemed to sag. Charla's hopes sank.

"The canopy's just too thick here," Nuala said, scratching her ear. "We're pretty deep in the forest now, from the looks of it. I didn't want to fly too far searching for it in case I lost you guys."

"But?" Lance cocked an eyebrow expectantly.

Nuala rolled her eyes. " _But_... Judging from the sun, south is that way."

She turned and pointed away into the darkness of the trees, in a direction that looked no different from any other. Lance grunted approvingly.

"Better than no direction at all, I guess. Let's see if we can't find our way to Lake Qilin on our own. Thanks for making yourself useful, fox."

"Must be your turn next, jerk."

Lance said nothing, but it almost looked like he was holding back a smirk as he brushed past her and began in the direction she'd indicated. Charla, Meredy and Nuala exchanged a look.

"Well," Nuala said, hovering down between them. "Looks like this trip just got a little more exciting, yeah?"

Meredy looked nervous, but Charla grinned. With the dryad encounter behind her, and her belly full of magic, she felt a lot less spooked than she had before. She felt like she understood the forest a little more now. Whatever Lance believed, she was sure that the dryads were real—that the magical antlered beast had been real—and that thought was somehow comforting.

Besides, she thought as she followed her friends deeper into the forest gloom, it wasn't like they were going to be lost in here _forever_...

* * *

A few hours later, Charla had come to one conclusion: Being lost was not very fun.

Without the river to guide them, they had to be careful not to let themselves get all turned-around and confused. Lance took to marking the trees they passed with his claws, but every direction looked the same and it was all too easy to get distracted and forget which way they were supposed to be going. Plus, all of this walking made Charla thirsty, and now there was no river to drink from.

"We've got to conserve our water," Lance told her when she bugged him about the waterskins. "We've hardly been lost for a few hours. You'll survive."

So Charla grumbled and let it go. Her good mood had quickly evaporated, and as the forest became darker with evening, all of her fears and insecurities came crawling back. So what if she knew there were dryads amongst the trees? That didn't mean there weren't _other_ more sinister creatures out there, just waiting to make her a meal...

Lance told her not to make a fire that night. He, too, seemed anxious—and no longer quite so sure that fire would ward off the creatures of the night.

"It's best we lay low and don't draw attention to ourselves," he told her quietly, which did nothing to calm Charla's nerves.

She stayed awake for long into the night, wishing she could see through the dark and jumping at small noises in the trees. The forest was no longer that magical, whimsical place she'd imagined it as. It was huge and unwelcoming and full of the unknown. It frightened her.

Lance sat up with her for hours, even after Meredy and Nuala had managed to find sleep, and Charla spoke to him just to drown out the eerie sounds of the forest.

"Have you ever been overloaded with magic before?" she asked, because she kept thinking about that burning, raging feeling of fire leaking from within her. It was a new and unpleasant feeling, like nothing she'd felt before, like the tingling warmth of a thousand spirit gems all at once—enough to make her feel like she was exploding. She'd never heard of such a thing happening to anyone before.

"Once," said Lance, gazing away into the gloom. "I was probably about your age. Maybe younger. Stalagor, my old dojo master—he thought we all needed to know what it felt like, so he let us overdose on spirit gems."

Charla thought about that for a moment. "That sounds kinda dangerous."

He shrugged. "Probably is. But not enough to deter Stalagor. He wanted to show us how to deal with that sort of excess power, I guess. I didn't get angry like you did, though. I just felt...heavy. And slow. Like I wanted to lay down and go to sleep. And the earth cracked under my paws even when I was standing still. I felt like I could topple a mountain with a single push."

"Do you think you could have?"

Even in the dark, she saw his amused smirk. "I doubt it. But I might have made a sizeable dent."

Charla nodded thoughtfully and looked away into the yawning blackness between the trees. Now that he mentioned it, she really _had_ felt powerful—like she could burn down the entire forest with a single breath; like she was _fire_ itself.

If that happened again, what might she be able to do? If she had that incredible power at her clawtips again, could anything stand in her way? The forest, the apes... Gaul himself?

She gazed down at her paws, her scales dark as dried blood in the gloom. This was one secret that Silverback and Jayce had never told her. What if it was something she could use to save them?

By the time morning rolled around again, Charla hadn't gotten much sleep at all—but still she led the way with eager steps, full of new ideas and the growing urge to break free of Whisperglade. The forest was becoming claustrophobic. The further they went, the deeper it seemed to become; the trees became denser, and taller and taller still, until Charla felt as dwarfed and insignificant as she had amongst the towering skyscrapers of Warfang. Far above their heads, the canopy was an unbroken dark ceiling, enclosing them in gloom and silence.

Charla longed for a glimpse of the sky, and she watched with envy every time Lance sent Nuala up to check that they were still heading south. She came down and corrected them a little each time, but of the river there was no sign. From now on, they were on their own.

But the forest itself was brimming with life. Charla kept her eyes and ears peeled for danger, and she saw far more than that. There were frogs and lizards in the undergrowth; small mammals—some with leathery wings, some without—flitting between branches; strange insects buzzing around their heads... At times she heard muted giggling in the distance and caught glimpses of dryads between the trees, but every time she tried to point them out to Lance, he never seemed to see them.

Worse still were the occasional sounds of huge creatures moving through the forest—never seen, always hidden by gloom and trees, but loud enough that Charla knew, whatever they were, they were much larger than anything she'd yet seen in Whisperglade.

She made sure to keep close to Lance this time, and she wasn't the only one. She and Meredy kept almost tripping over each other in their eagerness to stay in his shadow, but Charla didn't mind. She didn't want to be separated from everyone again—not now, when they were so lost. Even Nuala's bravado seemed to have disappeared.

Another night came and went, and still Charla hardly slept. She watched Meredy toss and turn in the dirt, jerking awake with frightened eyes only to curl up closer to Nuala and try to sleep again. The noises of the forest never abated.

Sometimes, Charla felt like Whisperglade was laughing at them.

She kept herself brave by thinking about Jayce and all of the stories she'd have to tell him when they were finally together again. She imagined the way he'd laugh, the way he'd gasp in awe, the way he'd say that he wished he'd been there too—and she imagined the moment they'd reunite at last, when she would fling herself into his arms and he would hug her tight. And then her fears would melt away. She knew everything would be fine.

Another day passed in this manner, and still they remained no less lost than before. Lance, whose patience was running thin, finally let them sip from the waterskins. Then he asked Meredy to keep her senses peeled for the feeling of fresh air between the trees, and sent Nuala up to check their direction once more.

"If we can find a big enough gap in the canopy, we can all get into the air and figure out where we are," he said. "Even if we have to fly for a whole day straight just to get to the lake…"

But they found no gaps in the canopy—at least none large enough for a dragon to safely break through—and night once again crept darkly upon them.

Growing blind with the deepening gloom, they chose to make camp between the roots of an enormous tree that would have dwarfed some of Warfang's highest towers. But just as they began to settle amongst the moss and the leaf litter, a sound came to them.

It was soft at first, just a rustle in the undergrowth. But then it grew closer, louder, and Charla knew—just _knew_ —that it was something very, very large. The creaking of roots and low-hanging boughs moaned through the forest, and the very earth seemed to tremble with the slow rumbling roar of something sliding through the underbrush, splintering branches in its path. She scrambled to her feet. So did everyone else.

"Something's coming," Meredy breathed, staring away into the trees. A spasm of fear flitted across her face. "It's big. It's very, _very_ big. Lance—"

"This way," he hissed, before she could even ask. "Stay quiet."

Holding her breath, Charla stumbled after him as quickly as she could, slipping in the leaf litter. Nuala had dropped out of the sky for once and settled unsteadily on Meredy's back, her wings clamped to her sides. Lance led them up the slope between two trees, and around behind a mossy outcrop of stone as tall as a full-grown dragon. But before he could lead them any further from the rumble of the approaching monster, Meredy uttered a strangled gasp.

They all stopped. Lance hissed at them to stay quiet. Nuala clamped her paws over Meredy's muzzle.

Charla craned her head around the rock, and her stomach dropped violently.

A huge, flat, triangular head had just snaked its way around the tree where they'd been sitting only moments before. Its long forked tongue flickered and probed around the mossy roots where they had just been, the gigantic head swaying to and fro as though in contemplation. Then it shifted and slithered further into the view, and Charla's legs turned weak.

It was a snake. But it was not a snake like any she had ever seen. The head alone was as wide as the wingspan of an adult dragon, the huge yellow eye as big as her own skull, and the body—the _body_... Charla felt her heart beating in her throat. It was as thick as a tree trunk and it never seemed to end. The longer she stared, the more snake there was.

It coiled itself fluidly into the hollow between the roots, swinging its head backwards and forwards, tasting the air with a tongue that was longer than her. Charla felt sick, but she couldn't tear her eyes away. Any second now, she was sure it would turn towards them and see where its prey had gone. And then... And then...

Charla's whole body shuddered. She gathered fire in the back of her throat. Her friends were rigid beside her.

She didn't think they could fight off something that big. All they could do was run and hope for the best—hope that it wouldn't lash out at them like lightning, like she had seen snakes do before, faster than her eyes could blink. They would be nothing more than a snack.

She tensed her paws.

But the snake did not turn towards them. Instead it raised its colossal head and began to wind itself up the trunk of the tree. Charla watched in horrified fascination as, coil by enormous coil, the snake wound its great glossy body up towards the canopy. It hardly seemed possible. The tree was not that much bigger than the snake itself, and it looked almost as if it were being strangled—squeezed to death by this giant serpent's muscled body. But it did not break or splinter, and the snake soon draped its unending coils amongst the highest, sturdiest boughs close to the canopy, where it was camouflaged by its dappled green-and-brown scales.

Had she not known it was there, Charla knew she would never have seen it.

"Well," Lance whispered, when all had become still and silent again, "looks like we won't be making camp here tonight."

Charla managed a nervous grin, her eyes still fixed on the nigh-invisible snake far above their heads. Nuala gave a strange, whispery chortle. Meredy just whimpered.

"Come on. Quietly." Ever so carefully, Lance stepped back from the stone outcropping that had been their shield, gesturing for them to follow.

Charla staggered after him, her legs numb with fright, holding her breath as damp leaves squelched under her paws. Even that sounded too loud in the silence. The back of her neck crawled, and she kept one eye on the snake as Lance led them away into the trees with slow, deliberate steps. She could feel Meredy's shaky breaths on her tail. Any minute now, she expected to hear the snapping of branches as the snake came darting down to make them its prey.

But the forest remained silent.

Very soon, the snake's enormous coils were lost from view beyond the trees and the gloom of night, and still they carried on, hoping to put as much distance between themselves and that monster as they possibly could.

The night deepened around them, until they found themselves in a blackness so thick they could not see the paws in front of their faces. Still, Charla dared not make a fire. At least, here in the darkness, they were invisible—even if everything else was, too. She kept almost walking into trees and tripping over enormous roots, and the whispering, chattering forest did nothing to calm her nerves. They had escaped one monster, but for how long? What of the next? Would they be so lucky?

Charla couldn't stop thinking about what would have happened if they hadn't moved in time, if they'd been too slow, if the snake had found them...

She didn't ever want to stop and sleep. But they couldn't carry on all night, unable to see and jumping at small noises. They needed shelter; they needed a hiding place.

Finally, Lance called a stop at the base of a mossy rise sheltered by undergrowth and gnarled roots.

"We need to sleep," he said firmly, as if he'd noticed Charla's twitchy, nervous paws and her urge to keep going. "We're not going to find any shelter better than this. That snake is well behind us now. Let's just keep going in the morning."

Charla wanted to protest, but she didn't have the energy. Despite her fears, there was a heaviness behind her eyes that just wouldn't go away, a leadenness that made it hard to move her legs. She was tired and she needed sleep. With a deep sigh, she trudged over to join him.

"Wait..." Meredy whispered.

They looked back at her. It was hard to see her face through the darkness, but her head was craned back, her muzzle pointed somewhere above the rise. She didn't sound afraid.

"What's wrong?" said Nuala, who was perched on Meredy's back with her tail curled around herself. "Don't tell me it's another one of those snakes."

"No..." she murmured. "It's... I can feel the wind. There's fresh air somewhere that way."

Lance perked up. "Fresh air? You're sure?"

Charla looked up at him eagerly. Fresh air meant a gap in the canopy. A gap meant light and freedom—a way out of the forest.

Meredy inclined her head slowly. "I'm certain."

There was a moment of pause. Nuala's ears swivelled back and forth. "So... Do we go look for it? Now? I mean, we still need to sleep. I don't know about you, but my eyelids feel like rocks."

Lance grunted. "You're right. We should sleep. If it is a clearing in the trees, it'll still be there in the morning. We'll check it out tom—"

"I want to look for it _now_."

Everyone looked at Charla.

She jutted her lower jaw out stubbornly. "I don't want to sleep here. It's creepy. I want to see moonlight. I want fresh air."

"W-well, I don't think it's too far away," Meredy said quickly, like she'd been waiting for someone to say that. "It won't take long. We could sleep there. If...that's okay with everyone, of course."

Nuala shrugged. "Yeah, sure, why not."

Lance heaved a long-suffering sigh. "Alright, fine... Lead the way, then."

And so they moved on, this time with Meredy in the lead, and she guided them up over the rise and further into the trees. Calmed a little by the thought of fresh air and a glimpse of the sky, Charla found enough courage to weave a tiny ball of fire to light the way. It bobbed ahead of her like an eager sprite, shimmering brightly through the dark. No one protested. Maybe they, too, were glad to no longer be blind.

"Put it out if you hear anything moving nearby," Lance told her grimly, and Charla just nodded.

Step-by-step they carried on into the night, straining for a glimpse of moonlight, and just as Charla was wondering if they'd have to go much further, something strange materialized out of the gloom.

A rope. There was a rope encircling the trunk of this tree. Charla stopped and stared.

It was a pretty rope, all things considered. Its fibres glinted silver in the light of her fire, and it had been weaved in a delicate braided pattern that reminded Charla of rolling waves. Little braided silver strands hung from it like woven icicles, drifting in the slightest breeze. She cocked her head.

"Look at this," she started to say, but Meredy interrupted her.

"Guys..."

Charla raised her head; something about Meredy's voice made the back of her neck prickle. And when she cast her gaze beyond the tree with the rope around its trunk, she understood immediately.

"There's a path..." Meredy whispered.

And there was.

Cutting through the trees like another great snake, distinct and unmistakable, a winding path led further into the forest and quickly out of sight. Moonlight shimmered on the leaf-strewn floor, so that it looked almost like a glistening silver river flowing between the trees.

Charla let her fire wink out. The moons' light was enough to see by now. This must have been the gap in the canopy they'd been looking for, where the leaves of the trees far above their heads did not quite meet over the path. It was not nearly wide enough to grant them freedom from the forest, but it did afford them a tantalising glimpse of a sky strewn with stars—and a taste of fresh, cool air.

But this path... Something about it made Charla's scales tingle, just like when she'd met the dryads and seen the creature with the crowning antlers. In the moonlight, she could see mist curling up from the forest floor. And when she looked further along the path, she saw something else—another tree marked with a silver rope around its trunk.

A whisper of cold wind whistled down the path. Charla shivered. Someone had put those ropes there—but who, and why, and when? What sapient creature could possibly live _here_ , in this forest of tricksters and monsters?

Lance seemed to be thinking the same thing. "This doesn't look natural... What are those things around the trees? They sure didn't _grow_ there."

"Maybe they're markers," said Nuala, fluttering off Meredy's back and flying towards one of the silver ropes. "You know, to mark the path?"

"Yes, but _why_?" Lance said impatiently. "Who put them there? Something about this makes me uneasy..."

"Maybe we should—" Meredy started to say, but she never got the rest of her words out.

Just as Nuala reached the tree—just as she stretched out her paw to touch the rope—a flurry of motion exploded above her. She shrieked and jerked back; Meredy screamed. But Charla just gaped. A flock of what looked almost like enormous flying _leaves_ had just burst out of the trees, disturbed from their place on the trunk above the silver rope. There were too many to count, but as they flew out over the path and caught the moonlight, Charla saw that they were moths—moths as big as her whole head, their gossamer wings exactly like huge flat leaves with iridescent silver veins.

They seemed to shimmer beneath the moons, blocking the path with their fluttering bodies, and Charla watched in wide-eyed amazement as they glided over her head. Tiny glistening particles fell from their wings, like flakes of silver snow drifting in the moonlight. She reached out a paw to catch them and they gathered like fine sand in the crevices between her scales.

Charla felt her heart swell; awe settled like a warm flame in the pit of her stomach. Then Meredy uttered a strangled, frightened gasp, and Charla jerked her head up, her heart leaping into her throat.

Someone was standing on the path.

Time seemed to stand still. The flock of moths passed on unnoticed into the darkness of the forest, and beyond their glittering wings they revealed a figure hunched unmoving between the trees. There'd been no warning of its approach; it seemed to have come out of nowhere. For a heart-stopping moment, Charla thought it was some kind of wild animal, maybe a boggart come to make her its prey—but then she saw that it was only small, no taller even than her, and it was wearing _clothes_. A long sweeping robe covered its hunched body and hooded its face, shadowing it from the moonlight, and Charla was strongly reminded of the moles she'd seen in Warfang.

But whatever it was, it didn't move. It just stood and faced them, the mouth of its hood full of darkness.

Charla gulped.

"Who's there?!" Lance barked, and Charla flinched so hard she almost leapt out of her scales.

As if that had been a signal, the figure suddenly shifted and swayed in place. Then, with a slow shuffling gate, it began to glide over the leaf litter towards them. Charla felt her mouth go dry. She tensed her legs to run, just in case, but her paws seemed to have turned themselves to stone.

"Who are you?" cried Nuala, her voice hoarse and fierce, but the figure still did not reply.

It moved closer, the moonlight that played across its hooded robes failing to reveal its shadowed face. Meredy had slithered around to hide behind Lance, but Charla couldn't move; she opened her mouth to say something, anything, but her pounding heart had rendered her mute. Claws—huge, deadly, sickle claws. Charla could see them curling out from within the figure's gaping sleeves, the weapons of a monster. Her blood ran cold.

Lance shifted himself in front of her, a low growl thundering through his chest. "Show yourself!"

The figure stopped. It gazed upon them for a short, silent moment. Then, without a fuss, it raised its enormous claws and pulled back its hood.

Moonlight fell upon a long slender face with a soft nose, a pair of huge dark eyes, and tawny fur as fine as feathery down upon its cheeks. A pale crown of enormous plate-like scales covered the top of its head and trailed down the back of its neck, disappearing into its robes. It was hardly the face of a monster.

Charla could only stare. She had the strangest feeling that she had seen a creature like this before, but where—and when? Lance seemed to falter, the growl dying in his ribcage, and his head lifted in surprise.

The creature's soft eyes glittered with starlight. "Be calmed, Children of Qilin. I am a friend. I had a feeling I'd be meeting you here."

Her voice was like cool water. There was a hushed silence. Charla held her breath, and her mind travelled back in time to many weeks ago, in the golden halls of the Temple of Warfang, where she had gazed upon a carving etched into the wall. Chelcie's voice echoed through her memories. But it was Lance who spoke aloud.

"You..." he whispered, staring at her like he'd never seen anything quite like her before. "...You're a pangolin."

Just like that, the pangolin smiled.

"Yes," she said. "And I've been waiting for you."

* * *

 **A/N: I like snakes. Has there been a lot of snakes in this story so far? I think so. Never too many snakes.**

 **This is one of those rare chapters where I hardly had to rewrite anything (except for the very end). The next chapter was not so easy. Speaking of which, I've been thinking a lot and trying to change how I think about my fanfics. Ever since I started this story, I've been so caught up on trying to make each separate chapter technically 'perfect' in its own right that I've spent more time rewriting than actually making progress. But I know that's not the way I write best; I write best when I don't think too hard and just _write_ , and don't get caught up on trying to make things perfect. It's impossible to make each single chapter perfect. Attempting to do so has just made my story disjointed and robbed it of some of the dynamic it should have.**

 **Long story short, I'm trying to get myself back to the way I used to write. Maybe chapters will end up slightly less polished, maybe they won't. But my hope is it'll improve the flow and dynamic of the story as a whole. Dunno. At any rate, it should make me write faster if nothing else. That's always a bonus.**

 **Anyway, thanks for reading! I'm glad y'all are still enjoying this. Next chapter shouldn't be too far away.**


	12. Monks in a Fancy Treehouse

**A/N: So there's only a few hours left of 2018 here in Finland, and I'll be damned if I don't post one more chapter before it ends. So, six months late, here it is.**

 **No, I'm not going to waste your time rambling about my insecurities as a writer and the struggles I've had breaking out of some very self-destructive mindsets, I've done that enough this year. All I'll say is, if you're still here, thanks for reading and sticking around. I hope the story will be worth it in the end. And I hope things go smoother from here.**

 **Happy New Year!**

* * *

 **Chapter 12**

 **Monks in a Fancy Treehouse**

"Oh no, not one of _you_."

Nuala's voice cracked through the silence like a thunderclap on a cloudless night, and Charla almost leapt clear off the ground. Everyone else flinched, and for some reason Lance shot Nuala a dirty look. Meredy frantically hushed her. But the pangolin just gazed at them from across the way, her dark eyes like windows to another world. Charla gulped and caught her breath.

For a second there, she'd been struck dumb by the stranger's appearance and the brittle sense of unknown magic in the air. But the spell had broken, and now there was a question on her tongue that needed to be asked. She didn't even pause to wonder what Nuala had meant.

"Do you _know_ us?" she blurted out.

The pangolin smiled again and did a funny little bow, hiding her huge claws—surprisingly blunt, now that Charla got a closer look at them—inside the sleeves of her robe. "In a way," she said softly, "and yet, no. I have seen you before, but we have never met."

 _That_ made the scales prickle on the back of Charla's neck. Above her head, Nuala scoffed and muttered something like 'Great, here we go...', but Meredy hushed her again. Before Charla could say anything more, Lance swept her back with his wing and stepped forward. She stared at him. For once, he didn't seem suspicious—his face was clear, his eyes bright with curiosity.

"You startled us," he said. "We never expected to meet a pangolin here. Are you...one of the...?"

He trailed off, looking awkward, and the pangolin gave a kind, tinkling laugh, her eyes soft.

"I am a monk of the Sanghalin Order, yes. A Disciple of Qilin. You may call me Sister Pema—and you, Children of Qilin, appear to be quite lost."

"We are!" Charla exclaimed, pushing Lance's wing aside. Most of the pangolin's pretty words had gone straight over her head, but at least she understood _that_. "We've been lost for _days_! Do you live here? Can you help us?"

Sister Pema nodded slowly. "Yes, I believe I can... It seems Qilin himself sent me to find you. Some days ago, I slept and saw a dream. In that dream, I saw myself walking this very path in the hours before midnight, and I knew that here I would come upon Qilin's children lost in the heart of the forest. Since then, I have come every night to wait for you... And thus, here you are. I am glad to meet you at last."

Then she bowed so low her nose almost brushed the ground, and Charla gaped at her. But before she could think of anything to say to such a bizarre announcement, Nuala uttered a loud and irritated groan. She darted forward before anyone could stop her.

"Would you cut that out?" she snapped, flaring her wings out with a sharp flick that made Pema shield her eyes. "I know your sort and I'm not dealing with any more of this, so keep your creepy voodoo talk to yourself and cut to the chase already. What do you want?"

"Nuala!" Meredy hissed, looking mortified. "You can't talk to a monk like that!"

"Watch your mouth!" Lance growled, and Nuala spun around to glare at both of them.

"I'll talk to her how I want! She's the one showing up in the middle of the night to spout spooky nonsense at us! And don't act like _you_ believe anything she says, jerk-face." She sneered at Lance. "I've seen what you're like. You probably think this is nonsense, too."

He curled his lip. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't put words in my mouth, fox."

Nuala bared her fangs, and Charla stared at all three of her friends in absolute confusion—but it was Pema who spoke next.

"Please! Do not argue on my behalf." She held her hands out in a gesture of peace, even as Nuala glared at her. "You are not wrong to be wary. The forest is a dangerous place for unwitting travellers, and I am a stranger to you. Your friend has a right to request this of me. I know illusionists do not care for our visions..."

Strangely enough, this made Nuala bristle more. "Don't act like you know me, weirdo. All I want is for you to stop confusing my friends with your stupid _'ooooo'_ "—she waggled her claws in the air—"crap. Just bloody well say why you're here."

Lance scowled, and Meredy's face flushed with a pink tinge visible even in the moonlight, but Pema bowed her head.

"As you wish."

When she straightened up, some of the starlight seemed to have left her eyes—but she smiled warmly enough. Charla stared at her, bewildered.

"I am here to help you," she said. "I cannot, in good faith, leave travellers lost in the forest. You are not safe here, as I suspect you have already discovered."

Nuala scoffed through her teeth. "Yeah, nice giant snakes, by the way. Real friendly. Is that what you usually do with travellers—feed them to the snakes?"

"Nuala! Stop it!" Meredy hissed, and Nuala fell silent with a bitter scowl.

Pema acted like she hadn't heard. Looking first at Charla and then at Lance, she added, "If you will come with me, Children of Qilin, I can take you back to our monastery and you will be given food and shelter for as long as you need. And when you are ready to leave, we will be happy to escort you to the edge of the forest." She allowed herself a small smile. "We would be glad to have you stay. After all, it's not often that we are afforded the honour of playing host to Qilin's favoured children."

There was a strange hushed silence. Meredy crept forward, her eyes as wide as full moons. "You...you'll take us to your monastery? The _Sanghalin_ _Monastery_?"

The edges of Pema's eyes crinkled with warmth. "Certainly. My fellow monks will be excited—"

"Uh, how about _no_?" Nuala laid her ears flat and hovered a little higher. "We don't even know who you are or if anything you're saying is true—"

"Would you cut it out?" Lance snarled suddenly, and everyone except Pema flinched. "I don't know what your problem is, but I'm getting really sick of your voice. Show some damn respect for once. This is a Sanghali you're talking to!"

Nuala whirled on him instead, a sneer twisting her face. "Well, right now I'm talking to an idiot! I'm right, aren't I? Since when did you like following strangers who show up in the middle of the night and pretend to be friendly? We almost got eaten by a snake! I'm not taking any more risks!"

"Exactly!" Lance snapped. "We need a safe place to spend the night and she's offering us one! It sounds like something's scrambling your brains, because if you say you 'know her sort' you should also know that we should be able to trust her! She's a _monk_."

"Sure, and maybe if we go with her she might be kind enough to sacrifice us to her creepy forest god! Or, I dunno, have _you_ forgotten all those stories about the travellers who go missing in this forest— _and_ what they always come looking for?"

"That's got nothing to do with the Sanghali! It's not their fault that idiot travellers get themselves killed—"

"Idiot travellers like _us_ , big guy?"

"Nuala, stop it!" Meredy cried. "Why are you acting like this? You're being ridiculous! Everyone knows the Sanghali Monks are—"

"Don't you take his side!" Nuala growled. "I'm not the one being stupid here. All I'm trying to do is look out for us, since nobody else seems to want to! At least _Charla_ is keeping her mouth shut for once—maybe you should follow her example!"

Meredy's face flushed dark. " _Excuse_ me?"

Lance snarled. "I think you're the one who needs to keep her mouth shut!"

"Why don't you come a little closer and say that to my face?"

Charla's eye twitched. Her tail lashed. As her friend's voices rose in a crescendo of argument, and Pema stared on helplessly with her hands over her mouth, the confusion that had been festering inside her concentrated into a rising blaze of frustration.

Finally, she couldn't take it any longer. Her voice cracked as it left her mouth.

"Would everyone just shut up and tell me what's going _on_?!"

This time, even Pema jumped. Nuala, Lance and Meredy shut their mouths and turned to her, their faces showing a mixture of surprise and irritation, and for some reason Charla felt a sudden surge of anger towards them. _All_ of them. They knew something, and she didn't. They knew something, and she was as clueless as ever.

"I don't understand!" she heard herself cry. "What is even going _on_ here? Who is this? Why are you acting like you know who she is? What _is_ she—what _is_ a pangolin or a Sanghali or whatever you call it?! Why are you all acting like this? Stop arguing and tell me!"

Then she shut her mouth and glared as hard as she could, half wishing she could set them all on fire with her eyes. For a moment, they looked dumbfounded. Then Lance sighed and stepped forward.

"Of course... I should have known you've never heard about the Sanghali. I thought everyone had, but..." He trailed off at the sight of her pout. "Well, I guess there's plenty of other things you've missed."

"You really don't know who she is?" Meredy asked, her eyes huge and round again.

Nuala scoffed. "Doesn't sound like she knows, does it?"

"Maybe you should _tell_ me, then," Charla grumbled. "You're all acting so weird."

But Lance shook his head. "Look, kid, this isn't the time. It's late and we need to get to shelter. We're not safe here."

Charla bristled. "But—!"

"All you need to know," he added quickly, "is that Sister Pema here is part of a very famous order of pangolin monks called the Sanghali—and she can help us. I don't know what's got the fox's tail in a knot, but everyone knows the Sanghali are friends to all living creatures. It's just who they are."

"They're incredibly respected," Meredy added in a hushed voice, as if embarrassed to say so in front of Pema herself, "both for their values and for their magic. I've read so many stories about them, but I never thought I'd meet them myself... They're usually so reclusive."

Charla stared between them for a moment, turning this over inside her head. "... _What_ magic, though?"

"Creepy magic," Nuala sneered before anyone else could say it. "Magic you don't want to get mixed up with."

Lance rolled his eyes. "They're clairvoyants, kid." He turned slowly to Pema. "And apparently they've even seen visions of _us_."

Pema dipped her head again. She seemed to have recovered from the argument, and her face and stance were serene again. She all but exuded patience and mystery, and Charla couldn't help but stare at her.

If that was true, then... Did that mean she could see the future? Was _that_ how she had found them here?

Before she could ask, Lance raised his voice.

"Anyway, that's all you need to know right now. We've kept Sister Pema waiting long enough, and it's about time we got going. That is..." He eyed Pema with something akin to sheepishness. "...If you're still willing to take us to your monastery?"

"What? Are you kidding me?" Nuala hissed, but everyone ignored her.

Pema smiled. "Of course. I couldn't just leave you here."

"I dunno, I'm pretty sure you could," Nuala muttered, but finally it seemed that Meredy had had enough.

"Would you please just _shut your mouth_ , Nuala!" she cried, and her voice reached such a pitch that Nuala flattened her ears and Charla winced. "I have _had_ _it_ with you tonight! I know you're trying to look out for us, but you're not making any sense and frankly you sound like a paranoid lunatic! Whatever problem you have with Pema and the Sanghali, keep it to yourself and let the rest of us do the talking before you end up looking like an even _bigger_ fool than you already are! _Thank_ you."

Then she lashed her tail and turned her back on Nuala, her nostrils flaring and her cheeks as red as ripe fruit.

Charla stared, jaw slack. Even Lance looked stunned. And Nuala, her ears pinned back, opened her mouth and closed it again, then very slowly descended to the forest floor where she folded her wings without another sound.

Lance exhaled softly. "Well... I assume the rest of us are in agreement."

He looked at Charla, and she just shrugged. She wasn't sure Nuala had deserved that, but then she wasn't sure of anything right now—anything, that is, except that she was tired, hungry, scared and desperate for a safe place to sleep. And if Lance thought this stranger could be trusted, maybe that was good enough for her.

Meredy nodded but said nothing. Lance turned to Pema.

"If you don't mind, then...lead on."

Sister Pema gave them one last bow before she straightened up and turned to face the path between the trees. "Of course. Please, follow me. It is a decent walk, but we should arrive shortly after midnight if we travel briskly..."

And she shuffled away, the moonlight catching on the silver hemming threaded through her robes.

Charla stared gormlessly after her, startled by the scaly snake-like tail curling out from under her hem, struck by a sudden flash of recognition. Again, she recalled the carving she had seen in the temple of Warfang, and Chelcie murmuring things in her ear. She hardly remembered what Chelcie had said back then, but she knew that the pangolins were part of the Zodiac—just like dragons and sky serpents and vulpala.

And that meant that Pema, for all of her strangeness, was surely their ally.

"We're actually following her?" muttered Nuala, who didn't seem to have realised this, or maybe she didn't care. "You're actually trusting her that easily?"

Lance shook his head and started down the path, passing between the trees with their silver-rope markers, disturbing the mist curling around their roots. "What's not to trust?"

Then he flicked his tail in dismissal, and Charla scrambled to follow him. Meredy plodded after them, leaving Nuala to trail subduedly behind her—and Pema just smiled and waited for them to catch up, the dappled moonlight dancing silver around her dainty form.

* * *

The sky was scattered with stars. Charla watched them shimmer and burn between gaps in the canopy until her head swam and she had to look away. Mist and moonlight curled around her paws, and Lance's shadow swayed over the leaf litter ahead of her. She felt strange, as if she was walking in a dream—as if none of this was really happening and Pema was just a figure conjured by her sleeping mind, come to guide her through the forest like the jackals in the desert.

It was only the little things that assured her this was real. The touch of fresh air, cool on her scales. The warm damp of leaf-litter under her paws. The muted crunch of her friends' footsteps, carrying in the silence.

It felt as though they had been walking for hours, following a path lined with silver markings and a stranger in silver-threaded robes. They met no one else, and Charla's limbs and eyelids ached with the longing to sleep.

But just as she was beginning to think she might collapse right there in the mud and leaves, the path ended at last. It spread wide as if to welcome them into the great beyond, and their river of silver light opened out into a lake of mist and starshine. For a blurry second, Charla thought they had reached the banks of Lake Qilin. But it was not water at all. It was moonlight pooling inside a great forest clearing, an open space beneath a cut-out of night sky that glittered and blazed through a gap in the canopy. The air was cold and fresh with the scent of freedom, and Charla's wings tingled in response.

But it was what lay beyond the clearing that drew her gaze and caught it fast. She staggered to a halt. Beside her, Meredy gasped.

Sister Pema, who had stopped near the edge of the clearing, looked back at them with her eyes full of stars. "Welcome to the Sanghalin Monastery."

So _this_ was where she was taking them...

Charla said nothing. Her voice had deserted her and her tired thoughts were empty. She hadn't even known what a 'monastery' was when Pema had first said the word, but what was facing them now was unmistakably a temple—and it was unlike any temple she had ever seen.

Across the clearing, dominating the surrounding forest with all the unshakeable presence of a mountain range, were three enormous trees. They stood as tall and as wide as the most towering skyscrapers in Warfang, their branches reaching up to weave an inky ceiling of leaves beneath the sky, like a net to catch the stars. From their sturdy feet arched moss-grown roots of incredible size, which twisted and curled across the forest floor as if they were giant snakes burrowing into the earth.

But they were not just trees. They _were_ the temple. Charla closed her mouth and swallowed.

The huge structure suspended between the trunks of these three unfathomable trees was unmistakable. There were walls and doors and sloping ceilings; there were bridges, pathways and platforms with intricately carved railings and awnings strung with vines; there were hundreds of tiny windows glowing pale gold, like stars pulled out of the sky. And none of it was brick or stone, none of it built by mortal hands. It was all part of the trees themselves, as if they had just grown that way, as if it were _alive_.

It was part of the forest. It was Whisperglade's beating heart.

"Never thought I'd live to see this..." Lance murmured, just loud enough to jerk Charla out of her stupor. "The Sanghalin Monastery... My mother had a painting of this place in our house when I was little. But seeing it now—for _real_? It's something else."

"Just looks like a fancy treehouse to me," muttered Nuala. "Don't go letting your guard down just because it's pretty. We don't know anything about this place or these weirdo monks, and _I_ haven't forgotten how many times this forest has tried to kill us."

"This is a monastery, Nuala," Meredy said tiredly. "What could be safer?"

"I dunno—getting _out_ of the forest, for one."

"Not really an option right now, fox," Lance grunted, earning himself a scowl.

Pema extended one thickly clawed hand, her eyes warm with reassurance. "You will be safe in the monastery, have no fear. Come. The senior monks will want to meet you."

"Yeah, thanks, I think I'll sleep out here," Nuala grumbled, but she didn't move to make good on that threat. Meredy sighed and moved forward, and Nuala had little choice but to follow.

As Lance stepped after Pema, Charla hurried to follow him. She stumbled blindly in his wake, dazzled by the monastery and its thousand windows glimmering like fireflies in the dark, like so many staring eyes. When she craned her head back to try to see all of it, the world spun around her and she felt like she was rising into the sky and falling through space all at once. Her paws were stone, but her head was light and full of stars. Only Lance's bracing wing stopped her from tipping over.

Before she knew it, Pema had led them across the clearing and through the labyrinth of roots erupting from the earth, and the monastery's many windows seemed to drift down to meet them, pulling them up, guiding them into the void of night. In single file they climbed a gnarled and twisted stairway that appeared to have been carved into the roots themselves, and Charla swayed as the earth fell away around them. Then, a doorway in the trunk of the tree opened wide and they were swallowed whole.

Golden light flooded her eyes. Charla staggered sideways against Lance and wondered if she had already fallen asleep, if this was all just a dream.

They had entered into a hollow chamber within the trees, where tiny glowing creatures crawled upon the walls and filled the space with amber light, though Charla didn't look close enough to see what they were. In the centre of the room was a statue so tall it nearly touched the ceiling, but she hardly noticed that, either. She was staring at the pangolins—and they stared right back.

There were only a few of them in the chamber, some clutching broomsticks or books, but they all were as strange and alien as Pema and they all wore the same dappled green robes. Pema bowed to them as she passed, and they dipped their heads in return, clasping their odd curved claws and murmuring words that meant nothing to Charla. Nuala glared as they went, but the pangolins' eyes remained full of wonder until they were out of sight.

They passed beneath an arch of silver carvings, through a short gloomy corridor, and into an enormous chamber whose roof curved far above their heads, where more pangolins sat at long squat tables arranged maze-like across the floor. These pangolins looked up as Pema entered with her guests.

"This is the Great Hall," she said to Charla and the others, gesturing with a sweep of her hand. "This is where we gather for meals and to greet guests. And these are our senior monks."

She turned and bowed, hiding her hands within the wide sleeves of her robes, and the pangolins at the table rose to their feet. Charla saw Nuala tense as they shuffled forwards, but nobody spoke until they were standing right in front of Pema. There were five of them, all with pale scale-armour and whiter, wispier fur than Pema, and the one that stepped forward looked oddly wrinkled—like a fruit left out to dry in the sun.

"Is this where your dreams have taken you, Pema?" he said in a surprisingly deep voice, his dark eyes twinkling with interest. "Has Qilin sent these guests to us?"

"Yes, Elder Kavi." Pema straightened up from her bow, and Charla saw that she stood almost half a head taller than the tiny wrinkled elder. "These are the Children of Qilin I dreamed about. I found them on the eastern path, just as Qilin said they would be."

"Then be welcome, friends." Elder Kavi turned to Charla and smiled, and the wrinkling of his cheeks nearly hid his eyes from view. "Our home is yours while you are here. We have not had dragons as guests for many, many years. It is a pleasure to meet you."

There was a general murmur of assent from the others, who nodded their wizened heads and gave their own welcoming smiles, and Charla felt herself relax in their presence. They were friends; she was safe. And then her fatigue came rolling back over her like a wave of tepid water and she swayed on her feet. Lance braced her with his shoulder.

Charla leaned her head against him, hardly hearing the murmurings of Elder Kavi as he spoke more words to Pema and the others. She thought she might just like to curl up and sleep right there, safe and cosy, amongst friends...

Her eyes slid shut of their own accord.

"...But first, perhaps you would appreciate a rest," said Kavi, his voice warm with amusement. "We cannot have our guests exhausted. Pema will guide you to where you can sleep."

"Already, Elder?" Pema sounded disappointed. "We have only just returned and the night is still young. I thought, perhaps, a tour—"

"Another time, my dear. They are daywalkers, after all."

"We've had something of an exciting few days," Lance grunted, his voice rumbling through his chest and into Charla's tired head. "We've been lost in the forest for a while."

"Then sleep will do you all the more good. Pema, off you go."

"Yes, Elder."

There was a shuffling sound, and Lance nudged Charla's shoulder gently. She forced her heavy eyes open, the golden lights blurring around her, and saw Pema gesturing for them to follow. Charla stumbled forward on clumsy paws.

"There will be time for a proper meeting when you awaken. Sleep well, Children of Qilin," said Elder Kavi as they left, and Lance thanked him quietly.

Then they were ascending narrow stairwells carved in spirals up the great tree, walking down timber hallways lined with woven floor-mats, glimpsing pangolins through open doorways and half-shut curtains, and Charla was too tired, too dazzled, to pay attention to where they were going. She just focused on the silver-threaded hem of Pema's robe tracing the ground in front of her, mesmerised by its sweeping rhythm, until finally it stopped.

A thick green curtain was swept aside, and a small room opened out before them, furnished with nothing but a few woven mats on the floor and a large window in the far wall, which opened out onto a vision of the dark forest.

"You may sleep here," Pema told them, as Charla stumbled in with Meredy and Nuala. "Let us know if there is anything you need."

Lance hung back to thank her, but Charla paid no attention to whatever else was said between them. She just flopped onto one of the mats, feeling her claws sink into its thick fibres—and when she opened her eyes next, Pema was gone. Meredy had dragged another mat over to settle beside her, Nuala between her paws, and Lance soon did the same.

"I'll keep watch," Nuala said stiffly, and Meredy sighed.

Lance shook his head. "There's no need. We're more than safe here. Just get some rest—we all need it."

But Nuala bristled. "You don't _know_ that we're safe; you don't _know_ that they're trustworthy. You're the one who's always so suspicious about everything—why are you so blasé about this?"

"Because they're pangolins. We're in the Sanghalin Monastery. They're _monks_. If there's anyone you can trust blindly, it's them. What's got you so worked up about them, anyway?"

"Look—" Nuala started hotly, but Charla didn't hear much more than that.

Their voices, which had already sounded faint and distant to her ears, soon faded into white noise inside her head—and then she was falling, falling into blackness, warmed by the bodies around her and lulled by the faraway whisperings of the forest at night.

* * *

She awoke to the sound of rain.

It was not a roaring thunderstorm rain, like she remembered from that night in Pyreflight, but a soft and whispering rain like the sound of wind dancing through the leaves. It was still dark, and a dull ache was pressing into her ribcage. She groaned and rolled onto her stomach. The pressure eased, but the thing came with her, tugging at something tied around her barrel.

Right. Her satchel. She'd fallen asleep so suddenly she hadn't even had time to take it off.

Still groggy and not-quite-awake, Charla wriggled and squirmed in a half-hearted attempt to get out of it, but all she managed was to get a paw caught in the strap. She sighed. As she sat up to take it off properly, and the fog of sleep lifted from her mind, she became aware of another sound—a soft and rhythmic _swish-swishing._

Very carefully, she pulled her satchel off, set it down, and turned. A bare hint of moonlight was creeping through the window, catching the edges of a small silhouette hunched upon its sill.

Nuala. She was facing out into that dark and drizzling forest and her tail hung down against the wall, flicking agitatedly from side to side.

 _Swish-swish._

 _Swish-swish._

Charla rubbed her eyes. Why was _she_ awake? Had she slept at all? Lance and Meredy were still slumbering on either side of her, their breaths even and undisturbed, and Charla didn't think she'd been asleep herself for more than a few hours. She felt strangely awake now, though—and there was a sense in the air that told her dawn was not far off breaking. Her paws found her satchel again and she drew it closer, her thoughts starting to turn.

Pangolins...

Last night, when Pema had found them, she'd been so tired and overwhelmed it hadn't occurred to her—but now, with her head clear of fatigue, she remembered. _Star Tales._ There had to be something about pangolins in there.

 _'I've read so many stories about them...'_ Meredy had said. And if they really were as famous as Lance suggested, then surely...

Charla fumbled with her satchel, and in a moment the little book was in her paws. But even before she flipped it open, she knew it was too dark to read by. Licking her fangs, she shot a quick look at Nuala, but she was still gazing out the window and didn't seem to have noticed Charla was awake.

Maybe she wouldn't notice this, then, either.

Fire licked between her claws. Holding her breath, Charla quickly moulded it into a tiny sphere and turned her back on the others, hiding her tiny nightlight with her own body. Its warm glow spread across the pages of her book, and the inked words seemed to dance in response, as if they knew what she was doing. She shivered and grinned, curled her wings forward to hide the light, and began to search.

It was only a small book, but there was still plenty she had yet to read—pages she hadn't got to yet, or chapters she'd skipped over in search of something more interesting. Inky images, some strange and beautiful, others grotesque and fearsome, twisted and shifted in the firelight as if they were alive. The pages turned beneath her claw.

She exhaled softly. Pangolins...pangolins... Was there anything at all?

She lingered on the naga's picture, recalling the real thing with a nervous twist of the gut, and quickly skipped forward. There had to be _something_. And just as she was losing hope, just as the pages began to thin towards the end of the book, the very thing caught her eye.

 _The Sanghali Seers._

Whether she recognised the name or not, Charla could not mistake the image inked beneath the title. It was a pangolin, just like Pema, dressed in a dappled robe and carving something onto a wall that had the texture of wood. Her heart began to race. This was it. This would surely tell her what Lance and Meredy and Nuala already knew.

She hunched over the page.

"You hiding something?"

Charla gasped so sharply she almost choked on her own spit, and her fire winked out with a spluttering burst. Nuala's face flashed briefly into view before disappearing into the darkness. There was a moment of awkward silence.

"Nice reaction," said Nuala.

Charla took a steadying breath and willed her heart to stop pounding. At least Meredy and Lance sounded like they were still fast asleep. "You scared me!"

"Yeah, I noticed. Didn't think you'd be up so early—what're you doing?"

Feeling silly, Charla willed another flame into existence and let it illuminate the book between her paws. Nuala's face loomed again out of the gloom, her white fur ablaze with the colours of fire. Her eyes went straight to the open pages.

"I just wanted to check something..." Charla mumbled, flicking the corners of her book with a sheepish claw. "I didn't want to bother anyone."

"Right. Figures." Nuala leered at the page for a moment and then met Charla's eyes. "You really don't know anything about them, do you?"

" _Should_ I?"

Nuala shrugged. "I dunno, don't ask me. Beats me what sort of weird things those apes decided to teach you." She cracked a smirk. "I remember you didn't even know what _sky serpents_ were when we first met. Talk about a lacking education."

Charla's face burned. "W-well, Silverback was always busy! He never had time to tell me a lot of things..."

"Yeah, and I guess he had more important things to teach you than the history of some creepy clairvoyants." Nuala prodded the picture of the pangolin with one narrow claw, her face twisting with dislike. "The only reason _I_ know about them is because Mum used to tell me stories. Never expected to meet them myself."

They lapsed back into silence, and Charla stared unseeing at the words on the page—but with Nuala lurking over her, it was too hard to focus on reading some stuffy old passage. There were too many itchy questions fighting to get out of her head, and Nuala was _right there_...

"Is it true they can see the future?" she finally blurted out.

Nuala swivelled her ears back and forth. "Yeah, I guess you could call it that... But I'd rather not know, frankly."

"Is that why you don't like them?"

"Who said I didn't like them?"

"Uh..." Charla wrinkled her muzzle. "You did. Last night."

The fur on the back of Nuala's shoulders bristled slightly. "All I was saying last night is that we shouldn't be so quick to trust random strangers, especially those that pop up in the middle of the night and _expect_ us to trust them! But apparently you and everyone else think that's stupid."

She scowled and looked away, folding her paws over her chest.

Charla shuffled guiltily. "I didn't think it was stupid... I just wondered _why_. Lance is always so suspicious about everyone, but he trusted that pangolin immediately. Why didn't you?"

Nuala exhaled through her nose but said nothing. Charla folded and unfolded the corner of a page, twisted her tail, and tried a different tact.

"What did you mean about those travellers that went missing? You said they were looking for something?"

That seemed to do the trick. Nuala turned to face her again and unfolded her paws, even if the scowl didn't leave her face. "You've heard about it before, right? I'm sure Meredy mentioned it once—all the stories about travellers that go into this forest and never come out again? Well, they don't just come in here for no reason. Usually, they're trying to find something..." She glanced towards the window and the dark forest beyond. "Something like this place we're sitting in right now..."

"This place?" Charla shivered despite the warmth of her fire, and followed Nuala's gaze out into the darkness. She could hear the rain, but in the gloom it was impossible to see.

"Yeah. The pangolin monastery. Idiots come here looking for it—or rather, looking for some pangolin who can tell them their future—but they never end up here. They never end up anywhere, actually. Usually, they're never seen again." She gave a wry, humourless smirk. "But I reckon we can safely guess what happened to them."

Charla gulped. The snake from last night was still fresh in her mind, its huge body twisting and curling through the underbrush... If it had found them, if it had snapped them up like an evening snack, no one would have ever known. She and her friends would have been lost to history, forgotten, leaving those few who still remembered them to wonder whatever had become of those weird kids...

She shuddered.

"But...that's not the pangolins' fault, is it? _They_ don't do anything to the travellers."

"I mean, we can't know that for sure." Nuala seemed to deflate a little. "But you're right, I guess. It's...unlikely. Big guy wasn't wrong when he said they're basically the most benevolent creatures around. They'd probably even try to befriend apes if it didn't get them killed first..."

She grimaced, and Charla shifted uneasily. "So...why don't you like them, then?"

Nuala whipped her head up and scowled into Charla's eyes, her tail lashing. "Look, I just think they're creepy, alright? Quit interrogating me."

Charla pouted. "I just wanna know why you got so upset."

"I wasn't _upset_!"

"You were!"

"Ugh, fine!" Nuala threw her paws in the air—and then Lance snorted loudly and both of them froze. There was a few seconds of tense silence, but then the sound of his steady breaths resumed and they uttered identical sighs of relief. Nuala scowled and turned away, lowering her voice. "They just...make me uncomfortable, okay? Clairvoyants make me uncomfortable."

"Why?"

"Because they do, alright?" Nuala huffed and her shoulders fell. Weaving her claws into her thick tail, she muttered, "Remember what the pangolin said—about illusionists?"

"Uhh..."

"She said we don't care for their visions," Nuala snapped. "And she's right. But there's more to it than that. Their magic, my magic... It doesn't mix so well. It's similar, but different. Opposites, I guess. Kinda like you and, I dunno...ice dragons."

Charla just blinked. Nuala twisted her tail between her paws.

"They're both magics of the mind, right?" she said, as if it were a question—not that Charla had any idea of the answer. "Mine messes with it, theirs sees into it...kinda. I've heard it said that clairvoyance is like seeking the truth, and illusion magic is like creating lies. Which is crude and kind of insulting, but I guess it gets the point across... Clairvoyance is about seeing things that haven't happened yet, or things that did happen, or things that are happening somewhere else. My magic is about _making_ you see things—things that, y'know, aren't really there."

She huffed through her teeth and turned her head, so that her face was completely hidden from Charla's view. "But I guess the worst thing is just that...my magic doesn't work on them. I can weave all the illusions I want, but they're gonna know it's not real. They've got this...this... _sixth sense_ of sorts—something that lets them _see_ things in a way that I don't understand. I can't mess with that.

"And it creeps me out, thinking about them seeing into my mind...knowing things about me that even I don't know..." Nuala shuddered and her wings trembled. "I hate clairvoyants. I feel so...vulnerable around them. Illusions are all I have. Without them, I can't protect myself. Or, y'know...any of you."

"Oh..." Charla stared at her own paws, and then at the picture in her book. The pangolin there looked as soft and harmless as Pema had in real life, and some part of her still didn't quite understand. "But, I mean, you don't have to worry about protecting anyone against the pangolins, right? You said yourself they're, um..."

"Benevolent?" Nuala shook her head and turned back around. "Yeah, I know. It just makes me uneasy, y'know? Being here..." Her tail swished. "Knowing all those pangolins are just wandering around out there, seeing who knows what, _knowing_ who knows what about us... And I can't even mess with them. It's creepy."

Charla's paws prickled, and suddenly she understood just a little about what Nuala was feeling. There _was_ something creepy about that. Creepy...yet cool. She glanced towards the curtained doorway. "Is that why you didn't sleep?"

Nuala snorted. "You can tell, huh? Yeah, I couldn't sleep like this. And pangolins are most active at night, y'know? They're nocturnal. So I figured _I'll_ sleep when _they're_ sleeping. Well...that was the plan, anyway. I'm kinda regretting it now."

As if to prove her point, she yawned widely, and Charla giggled. Nuala closed her mouth with a sharp clacking of teeth, looking almost sheepish.

"Anyway," she said suddenly, standing up with a skitter of claws on wood, "whether we're safe here or not, I'll just be glad when we're out of this forest. We've gotta be almost halfway to the Mountain of Malefor—as soon as we get to that lake, right? And then it's a straight shot to the southern coast and those apes of yours." She grinned at Charla. "Gaul ain't gonna know what hit him."

Charla grinned back, ignoring the twinge of unease that twisted in the depths of her stomach. A straight shot... Right... Thoughts of her tiny map and Lance's unfinished plan rose to the front of her mind, but she pushed them back.

 _'It's not going to be easy...'_

She banished his voice from her thoughts and looked down at her book again, but the words all blurred together and she couldn't make them focus. Nuala clapped her shoulder with the edge of a feathered wing.

"I'm gonna get some sleep while it's still dark," she said. "You can keep a lookout for now. Don't let the pangolins spook you too much. See you in the morning, Char."

"It _is_ morning, Nu." Charla grinned.

"Not until the sun rises, it ain't." Nuala flashed her a smirk, curled up on one of the mats, and coiled her tail around herself so tightly that she looked like little more than a bundle of fur and feathers.

Charla gazed at her, drumming her claws on her open book, until Nuala's gentle snores rose to join the steady breathing of Lance and Meredy. Only then did she turn back to the still-unread passage in _Star Tales_ and try to focus. But the words would not take shape before her eyes. Her mind was racing now, turning over everything that Nuala had told her and everything that had happened last night, trying not to think too hard about what came next and the path beyond the forest—and all of a sudden, it seized on something.

Pangolins... Nuala had said there were pangolins walking around right now. And if there were pangolins right outside her door, then why was she sitting in here reading a boring passage about them?

She could be out there, speaking to them, asking them questions, hearing about their lives and magic from the mouths of pangolins themselves!

Charla snapped the book shut and tossed it on top of her satchel, then glanced out the window. It was still dark, but it wouldn't be for long. If what Nuala said was true and the pangolins really were nocturnal, she didn't have a lot of time. And, judging from the state of her friends and their late night, they wouldn't be awake for a good while yet.

Perfect. She could work with that. All she had to do was dart out, chat with a few pangolins, and return when the sun rose. Then she'd be back by the time her friends woke up and no one would have to wonder where she had gone.

Which was good, because Lance would probably kill her if that happened again.

Charla grinned to herself and clambered to her feet. What great ideas she had. She almost wanted to wake Nuala again and tell her to come too. But no, she probably wouldn't like that. Instead, Charla paused to check that all three of them were sleeping soundly, left her satchel crumpled on the floor, and headed for the door. A thick woven curtain was all that lay between her and the pangolins. She pulled it back.

"Back soon," she whispered over her shoulder. And like a wisp of smoke, she was gone.


	13. The Art of Prophetic Dreams

**A/N: Hi I'm a silly bugger who's scared of posting chapters, but Demi threatened me and forced me to do it. :c Thanks for all the support, guys! I hope I'm able to give you a decent story. If not... Well, I tried. Thanks for reading!**

* * *

 **Chapter 13**

 **The Art of Prophetic Dreams**

Who knew it was so easy to get lost in a monastery?

When Charla had first stepped out into the hallways beyond their tiny room, she'd expected to see pangolins everywhere. But all she'd found was an empty corridor. Past closed curtains and quiet rooms, she'd eventually come upon a spiralling stairwell, whereupon she'd heard the first signs of life. _Singing_.

At least, it sounded like singing—a distant, rhythmic drone, like insects humming together somewhere deep in the forest. She'd coiled down the stairwell in search of it and come out into another maze of empty corridors, where the rooms were bigger and the doorways were closed off by fancier curtains—the sort of curtains that had weird patterns woven into their threads. As the humming drew louder, she'd had the guts to peer a single eye through a gap between drapes and almost gasped aloud.

There were pangolins in there. They were lined up in rows, tens of them, all kneeling with their backs to her and murmuring together in low, musical tones. As she watched, they bowed and straightened up again, touching their foreheads to the floor, curling and uncurling themselves in an endless rhythm as if it were a dance. With her mere sliver of view, she could just make out part of a painting that covered the far wall—a mural of the forest, perhaps, and a glimpse of a pair of slender legs with sharp cloven hooves. At its base, a small wooden table held a small wooden bowl, and from it wafted a gentle curl of sweet-smelling smoke.

Charla watched for a moment, listened to the rise and fall of their chanted song, and then forced herself to step away. Whatever was going on in there, she knew it was something she couldn't interrupt. She would just have to find other pangolins.

But that was when she started to get a little lost. She slunk up and down winding corridors and twisting stairwells, past bridges and platforms that stretched out into the cold wet darkness, past walls that crawled with tiny weird lizards whose dotted yellow patterns glowed like embers, and there were no other pangolins to be found. And when she eventually stumbled out into the Great Hall—that cavernous space she remembered from last night—it, too, was empty.

She scampered across it with exaggerated leaps and bounds, darting amongst the long low tables, enjoying the ringing echo of her claws as they clacked against the wooden floor. Then she left that place behind as well, and found herself in the small entrance hall with the huge statue in the centre.

The rain was louder now, singing its static song through the open windows, and the sky outside was not as dark as Charla remembered. A little thread of worry twisted a knot inside her stomach. She ignored it and made a beeline for the closed doors across the way.

As she did, however, the statue caught her eye. She'd hardly noticed it last night, what with the pangolins around to distract her, but now she found that there was something oddly familiar about it. It was certainly not a pangolin. It had a long serpentine tail with a tuft of perfectly coiffed fur; four slender legs with dainty cloven hooves; a pair of enormous antlers that crowned an oddly draconic head, its sharp branching tines almost brushing the ceiling...

Charla circled around it and stared wide-eyed into its face.

It looked just like that creature she had seen in the forest—the one that had saved her from the dryads—right down to the tiny flowers growing on its antlers.

But that had just been an illusion, hadn't it? It hadn't been _real_.

At least, that's what Lance had said.

She squinted up at the statue, pulled a face, and poked her tongue out, but its eyes of golden wood remained frozen in their eternal stare. Charla shrugged and looked down at its hooves. A single word had been engraved at the front of its dais.

 _Qilin._

That word... She'd heard it before. It was the name of the lake they were heading towards—and also part of something Pema had called them last night. _Children of Qilin._ She'd never gotten the chance to ask what that meant. Now, staring at this statue and the word carved beneath its hooves, she wondered if that could possibly be this creature's name.

What a weird name. And what did this strange creature have to do with her and her friends and some random lake, anyway?

A spiky ball of irritation clawed its way up her throat. Charla lashed her tail, tore her eyes from the statue and stalked away. Too many questions and not enough answers... She needed to find a pangolin, and she needed to find one _now_.

But when she shouldered her way through the doors and out into the open air, all she found was darkness and rain. She stopped in the doorway, catching her breath. It was definitely lighter than it had been before, enough that she could make out the individual dark shapes of trees encircling the lake-like clearing beyond the monastery. Puddles of light—moonlight, or perhaps a hint of the breaking dawn—rippled and danced over this circle of forest floor, illuminating raindrops like tiny crystal shards in the night. A chill wind whispered through the leaves.

Charla shivered. She looked down, letting her eyes follow the twisted roots to the muddy earth, but her gaze was soon drawn upwards. Up, past the dark and rising tree-trunks. Up, through the inky tangle of bough and branch, through the glistening wet lattice of leaves, to that tantalising glimpse of clouded sky.

She hardly thought. Her wings spread of their own accord. She leapt.

And then she was rising—rising through the darkness and the rain, past the glistening golden eyes of the monastery, reaching for the treetops. The earth fell away beneath her, the leaves brushed her scales with wet fingertips, and then at last she was part of the sky again.

She closed her eyes and twirled—and when she opened them again, even the canopy of the forest lay beneath her. Above her, there was nothing but sky. It was an open, endless canvas, splotched with grey clouds turned silver by the light of a low-hanging green moon, and the darkness of night was melting away, leaving the stars to fade shyly out of sight. Charla laughed aloud as she spread her wings and hung there above the world, ringed by a halo of misted rain. She couldn't remember the last time she had touched the sky—the last time she had felt so free, so _alive_.

But then she cast her eyes towards the horizon, saw what awaited her beyond the forest, and her high spirits fell back to earth with a bump. Something inside her twisted and shrank. A mixture of fear and awe swelled in her chest and lodged in her throat, and finally she felt the chilling cold of the rain on her scales.

Because there _was_ nothing awaiting her. Nothing but the unbroken swell of deep, dark green—the rolling waves of the great ocean that was Whisperglade.

From horizon to horizon, it went on forever, allowing only the tallest trees to break free of the swell and reach their spindly fingers towards the sky. Charla twisted in the air, the breath thick in her throat. There was no sign of the river, let alone that elusive Lake Qilin, and nor was there any hint of those green northern plains from whence they had come. There was no glimpse of the dry lands north of Pyreflight, which should have been somewhere to the east, nor of the western grasslands that spread from the foot of the Westwing Range.

There was...nothing. She was a sailor adrift in a great sea, and land was but a distant memory, a hopeless yearning. Were those the ghostly shadows of mountains far beyond her sight, or was that just wishful thinking? With only the fading moon to light her way, she couldn't tell.

A shaky breath shuddered from her lips. They really _were_ lost...

Charla shook herself and looped through the rain, scattering it from her freezing wings. Then she dived for the gap in the canopy, leaving the empty sky behind and her worries with it. The pangolins would guide them. They would not be lost in here forever. They couldn't be.

But still she tore her eyes from the clouds and the blank horizon, and refused to think of it any longer.

She was very wet by the time she landed. She hadn't aimed for the ground, but had instead taken her time looping amongst the platforms and balconies of the monastery, until her frozen wings had forced her to alight on a bridge halfway between one tree and another. It was an odd bridge—as though someone had repurposed a very large branch, carving it flat and erecting railings of vine along its edges. It even curved slightly, and its damp wood seemed to flex under Charla's paws. She extended her claws to stay steady.

Now, she thought as she glanced both ways, she had something of a dilemma. It occurred to her that the sun was probably starting to rise, and—after all of this—not only had she not found a pangolin to talk to, but she'd gotten herself so turned around that she had no idea how to get back to her friends. She'd been banking on the hope that, once she found a pangolin, they would be able to lead her back again. But if she couldn't even _find_ one...

She pulled a face. Stupid. There was still time. If she knew Lance at all, he'd probably sleep until midday. And there was still plenty of monastery she hadn't yet searched for pangolins to talk to. She just had to stay _positive_.

And so she turned on her heel, picked a tree at random, and marched across the bridge towards it. The whole thing swayed as she walked, creaking in the wind, and a little thrill of excitement jittered down Charla's spine. She grinned and broke into a run. Her paws pounded the bridge, rain splashed up her legs, and for a moment she felt like she was still flying, her wings half spread, her stomach left behind.

Then the dark mouth of a doorway in the tree opened wide to engulf her, and she skidded to a halt. Shaking the water from her wings, she peered into the gloom and then stepped out of the rain.

The corridors here were darker than the others had been. There were no windows, and the feeble light from outside did not spread far beyond the doorway. A cloying silence seemed to reach for her, enfolding her, and there was a strange sense that hung in the air alongside it. It was a tingling, electric feeling—one that made her think of magic and spirit gems.

She hesitated at the threshold, trying to see through the darkness.

There was a faint shimmer just ahead, a circle of golden light that did not belong to the sun or the moons. Charla padded towards it. Whispers of rain echoed after her, melding with the sound of her pawsteps.

Something felt different here... Different to the rest of the temple. She couldn't explain it.

Before her eyes, the shimmer down the hallway took on shape and form, and Charla slowed as she reached it. How strange... It looked just like a big droplet of tree sap, oozing out from the walls like golden blood—yet it shone almost as brightly as spirit gems. When she squinted, she could make out faint ribbons of pastel colour twisting inside of it. She raised a paw, hesitated, and then touched it.

Warmth rolled up her foreleg. The sap wasn't wet. It was hard and smooth, like glass or crystal, and warm as a summer breeze. The faintest hint of magic tingled between her claws.

She resisted the urge to tighten her grip and shatter it like a spirit gem. She was imagining it, surely... Why would there be magic inside a frozen drop of tree sap?

Shaking herself, she let her paw slip from the glassy droplet and backed off. Then she turned to face the gloom, and a warm shiver trailed all the way down her spine. Now that the outside light had left her eyes, she could see clearly—and she saw that there was golden sap _everywhere_. There were not just droplets of it; there were whole streams of it, trailing down the twisted tree walls, lighting the darkness with a faint amber glow. It seemed to call her onwards.

Charla held her breath, paws tingling, and stepped forward.

She walked slowly, trying not to make too much noise, because there seemed to be something sacred about the silence that existed in these corridors. As she went, hearing only her own pawsteps and the breaths shivering from her lips, she began to notice other things. Small patches of fungi on the walls, which glowed in pale shades of blue, pink and yellow; little insects scuttling amongst these feathery growths, their round bodies winking with dim light; more lizards like the ones she'd seen before, whose shining patterns turned red with warning whenever she drew too close.

It was like she had stepped into another world—and, away from the sun, these strange things shone as brightly as stars and moonlight. Charla didn't even need fire to light her way.

Now and then, her wandering paws took her past tiny rooms within the corridors, so small that they were little more than shallow alcoves. Each of these was furnished with nothing but a square of woven mat on the floor, their walls ringed with droplets of golden sap. Once, Charla stepped into one and sat down on the mat, and for a few eerie moments she felt like she was somewhere else entirely—a different time, a different place, a different life.

She left quickly, feeling like there were lost spirits whispering around her head and a tingle of strange magic twisting down her spine.

Eventually, she came upon a stairwell and let it guide her upwards, higher into the tree. Even here, sap and fungi lit her way, throwing their pastel light into the gloom. Step by step, she climbed. She had stopped hearing the rain a long time ago, and all was quiet now, like the tree itself was holding its breath.

Then, at last, she stepped out onto the landing of a higher floor and turned her head. A great open space yawned wide before her, lit by nothing but sap shimmering low on the walls. Above her, the ceiling was a gaping black void that seemed to go on forever, as if she could fall into it and never be seen again.

On silent paws, she crept into the chamber. Her footsteps echoed through the empty space. Was she alone here? She could just make out the distant glimmer of the sap on the far wall, but it did little to illuminate the darkness.

Why were there no windows? What was this place?

For some reason, Charla quivered with the sense that she was breaking some rule by being here, as if this place was meant to remain undisturbed. Even the sound of her own breathing seemed too loud.

She inched closer to the nearest river of amber, finding comfort in its warm light—and, as she did, she noticed something on the wall.

A picture. There was a picture carved into the tree. It wasn't much bigger than her paw, but in the faded glow she saw that it looked just like a dragon. It was only a small dragon, young and round with baby fat, its horns like lightning bolts, and carved beside it was some kind of large four-winged insect. Charla tilted her head one way and then the other, but made no sense of it.

Then she crept on and realized with a shiver of wonder that there were more carvings—hundreds of them, even. There were so many that they covered the walls, their dark lines revealed in the light of nearby crystal droplets. She circled slowly around the room, craning her head to see each one, watching the carven scenes play out before her eyes like a storybook she didn't understand. She saw dragons, eggs, pangolins, sky serpents, even apes—and other, more abstract things, like a path lined with trees or a temple surrounded by enormous mushrooms, or a volcano spewing fire into the sky.

Some things were familiar—she saw a city skyline that could have been either Warfang or Pyreflight, and a silhouette of a dragon that was surely the Terror of the Skies—but it was on the far side of the chamber where she found something that made her paws slow and her breath stop.

It was a mountain. A single dark peak was rising alone into the sky, its apex split into lines of jagged fangs like the gaping maw of some great stone dragon. Above it, two moons were coming together as one.

Charla stilled, her heart pounding in her chest.

She knew the Well of Souls when she saw it. It was impossible not to recognise it. And the eclipse, too... It was just like her dream—everything except the jackals and the pillar of violet flame that erupted from its peak. This was a carving of her own nightmares.

Her paws tingled. She felt cold.

Why was this here? Who had put it here? ... _Why_?

This shouldn't have been possible. She'd told no one about her dreams except Lance, and yet here was an image of the very thing that she had seen—here in some strange temple in the middle of this alien forest.

Was this magic? A premonition? A prophecy?

She reached out to touch it, to see if it was even real, and the wood was smooth and solid under her paw; her claws caught the indents of the engraved lines and she knew she wasn't just imagining it. Someone had carved this here, who knew how long ago. Who knew how long it had been here, just waiting for her to find it...

Feeling ill, Charla pulled her paw back but did not tear her eyes from the carving.

Maybe it didn't mean anything... Maybe someone had just felt like drawing a picture of an eclipse above the Well of Souls for no reason at all, and it was all coincidence that she'd had such a similar dream. That was more likely, wasn't it?

She swallowed. The carving blurred and refocused before her eyes, but it didn't change. She wanted to turn away—she wanted to keep looking around the room and see what other things had been carved into the walls—but she couldn't make herself move. Faintly, she thought she heard a voice murmur something inside her head, but she took no notice. The image of the Well and the moons felt like it was burning itself into her eyes and she couldn't look away.

What did it _mean_?

"It's best not to dwell too long on dreams."

Charla flinched hard, and the world came back to her with an unpleasant jolt. That voice hadn't come from inside her head; it came from right next to her. _Someone_ was right next to her. She whirled around and flared her wings, fire rising in her throat—and came face-to-face with a pair of huge dark eyes, and the little hunched creature they belonged to.

A pangolin. Charla choked and staggered back, her heart thumping madly against her ribcage. The pangolin stared at her, looking almost as startled.

How long had she been there?

Charla opened her mouth to ask, but shock had turned her mute. She gulped a few times.

"I'm so sorry," said the pangolin, holding one thickly-clawed hand to her mouth. The light from the crystallised sap made her platelike scales look almost golden. "I didn't mean to scare you. I thought you heard me approach."

"I...I didn't," Charla said weakly.

There was an awkward pause, until the pangolin smiled and relaxed her hands. She seemed familiar somehow—and, seconds later, Charla realised why. It was Sister Pema, the one who had found them last night. She remembered her eyes and the sound of her voice.

"Charla, isn't it?" Pema asked, and Charla nodded shyly.

Words seemed to have become stuck in her throat. Vaguely, as if they didn't really matter anymore, she thought of all the questions she'd wanted to ask when she finally found a pangolin, but failed to grasp any of them. Not that she had a chance to speak, anyway—Pema continued before she could even think of what to say.

"I didn't expect to see you here, especially so early." She tilted her head. "Shouldn't you be asleep with your friends? How did you end up here?"

"I..." Charla gulped wordlessly, staring into Pema's dark eyes, her head ringing. "I was just...looking around. I couldn't sleep, and I wanted to talk to someone before you all went to bed..."

She shivered as she spoke, and her eyes kept creeping back towards the carving of the Well, almost of their own accord. It was like a layer of fog had descended over her mind. She felt dizzy.

The lines around Pema's eyes crinkled warmly. "Well, now you have found me. I was just finishing my carving when I heard you come in. Do you want to see it?"

 _Her_ carving? Charla swayed on her feet, but then her mind seized on something else and she felt her face burn. "Y-you were here this whole time? I...didn't see you at all. I thought I was alone..."

The back of her neck crawled. Pema had been right beside her for who knew how many minutes, and she hadn't suspected a thing. Nuala's words echoed inside her head, eating at her nerves. If only she'd asked the vulpala to come with her...

"We are used to remaining unnoticed," said Pema with an almost rueful smile. "Sometimes, it is the only way to survive in Whisperglade. Let me show you the carving; I think you'll like it."

She slipped her claws into the sleeves of her robe and started to turn away, and Charla swallowed hard. Shooting one more look back at the carving of the Well of Souls, she forced her leaden paws to move. Ask... She had to ask... But the words would not leave her mouth, and her tongue had turned to stone. She followed in silence.

They did not go far. Pema led her around the curve of the room and then stopped just inside the glow of crystallized sap. She swept her claws towards the wall, as if unveiling something incredible, but all that Charla saw was yet another crude picture carved into the wood.

She squinted and looked closer. There was a path, winding through the forest. Upon it, four carven figures stood in a row, the smallest hovering above the rest. And one of them, Charla saw with a funny shiver, had familiar forward-curling horns...

"That's us, isn't it?" she heard herself whisper.

"It is." Pema sounded like she was smiling. She pointed at a tiny hooded figure standing further along the path, facing the others. "At first, I had only carved myself. I could not be sure if I had interpreted my dreams correctly, and so I did not finish it... But now you are here, my vision has come to pass, and tonight I was able to complete it. I must thank Qilin for allowing me to do so. Not all of us are so lucky."

She clasped her claws together and bowed to the carving itself, and Charla stared. The ringing in her head had started again. The Well of Souls burned in her mind's eye.

"Why, though?" she asked, and she heard her voice shake. "Why do you carve this stuff here? What does it mean?"

"Why, these are the recordings of our visions," said Pema, as if this should have been obvious. "Everything we have ever Seen has been recorded on these walls, carved into the waking world so that we may study them outside of dreams. It's what we have always done."

 _Everything we have ever seen..._

Charla's mouth had gone dry. She tried to swallow, but her tongue was as thick and heavy as wet sand. It was all she could do to choke the words out. "S-so...these are visions? Of the future?"

"Oh, not always of the future. Some of the past, some of the present, some that depict things far more abstract than a mere event placed in time... And many have already come to pass, just like mine." She smiled at her carving again, and Charla surged on while she had the chance.

"But do you know what all of them _mean_?"

"Oh, certainly not!" Pema giggled. "Of course, there are some that I do—such as those that have already occured—but most of them are a mystery to me. Often, they remain a mystery even to those who Saw them. Such is the way with visions..."

Then, before Charla could so much as open her mouth again, Pema yawned and turned away from the walls. "If you are interested, I will gladly tell you more another time. But perhaps we should retire for the day. The morning is breaking and I must sleep... Are your friends nearby?"

"N...no. They were all sleeping when I left." Charla looked nervously into the darkness around the room. The idea that the sun had probably risen, that her friends might be waking up at this very moment, no longer seemed very important. Her dream, the carving, the Well of Souls... She couldn't leave without knowing what it all _meant_.

"Then how about I take you back to them?" Pema said, oblivious. "We don't want them to worry about you, and I don't want you to get lost on your way back."

Charla shook her head. Her voice had failed her, but she _couldn't_ go. Not yet.

"No?" Pema sounded surprised. "Are you sure? You are welcome to stay here, of course, but it's very easy to get lost on the monastery if you do not know your way around. And I really must get to sleep."

Charla shook her head again, more forcefully this time, but Pema just looked bewildered. She sighed.

"I'm sorry I cannot stay. If you wish to come with me, you may. Otherwise, I bid you a good day, Daughter of Qilin. I shall let your friends know where you are, just in case..." She trailed off, eyed Charla uncertainly, and then started to shuffle away, the hem of her robes swishing across the floor. The darkness beyond the glowing sap began to swallow her up.

At last, Charla unstuck her tongue.

"W...wait!"

There was a startled silence. Pema looked back at her. "If there is something you need—"

"You can't go yet!"

Her shout echoed in a ghostly wail around the chamber, and Charla flinched. She lowered her voice. "I just... I need to ask you something. It won't take long. Please."

At first there was no response, but then Pema turned and shuffled back, her silver-threaded sleeves sparkling in the muted light. Charla gazed at her, heart in her throat. She felt shaken and scared and she didn't know why.

Pema's dark eyes searched her face, soft with concern. "Something here has frightened you, hasn't it?"

Charla just swallowed. She was being stupid, she knew that. But everything seemed to have happened so quickly, and her head was reeling with the suddenness. It was like they'd been hopelessly lost in the forest one moment, and then here in this unbelievable temple the next—and already she'd run off on her own and gotten lost in this strange place, all because she'd wanted to ask a few silly questions. Now she'd somehow found her way here, to this chamber of weird carvings, to find an image from her own nightmares etched into the wall.

She felt like she was going mad.

"There's...a carving," she said, her voice catching. "Over there. It's…"

"Show me."

Charla curled her tail and whirled around. With Pema gliding solemnly behind her, she retraced her steps. Carvings swam towards her out of the gloom and disappeared just as quickly, and Charla's heart began to pound. It was here somewhere… What if she couldn't find it again? The darkness seemed to press in on her, constricting her.

But then, seconds later, there it was—those gaping mountain jaws beneath the twisted moons. She halted before it, heart in her throat.

"This one," she whispered.

Pema was silent for a long time, enough that Charla's scales began to crawl and her paws started to sweat. Finally, she heard the pangolin sigh.

"I see," she murmured. "Is this familiar to you? Do you know what this is?"

Charla's gut churned and she dug her claws into the soft wooden floor. Golden light pulsed in her eyes. The carving flickered like it was alive. "It's...something I've seen before. In my dreams. I just want to know what it means. Why it's here. Who did it…"

Pema looked at her, her dark eyes turned sepia by the light, and Charla had no idea if she could trust her— _who_ she was, _what_ she was, what _this place_ was. But there was no one else she could ask. She trailed off. Pema brushed her horn with the tips of her claws.

"Strange," she murmured, "that someone like you would dream of this. But...perhaps not entirely surprising. This is a new vision, recently carved, and it is an unusual one. I do not know who carved this here, but I do know that many of my brothers and sisters—and I as well—have shared this dream in recent weeks. We all know of it; we all foresee it. It is, after all, hard not to notice such a stark disruption in the ebb and flow of magic.

"Even you," she continued sharply, before Charla could speak, "a child of Qilin not gifted with clairvoyance, but sensitive to the stream of mana, have sensed it. That is...alarming. But such things are the least we can expect as the Night of Eternal Darkness draws near."

Charla's breath whistled like ice from between her teeth. All of a sudden, she felt very cold. "The...the _what_?"

Pema hesitated, her claws slipping back into their sleeves. "The Night of Eternal Darkness. The eclipse of the celestial moons. Do you not know of this?"

The chill air shivered in Charla's lungs. She wanted to tear her eyes from the carving but couldn't look away, as if the overlapping moons were a single eye blazing into her soul. She shook her head.

Pema hummed grimly. "And yet you have dreamed of it… You must be very confused."

Charla forced her eyes shut and wrenched her head to the side. "I am! I don't understand it at all! I just...I just want to know what it is! What does it _mean_? Is it a vision of the future? Is it actually going to happen?"

The thought made her paws quake. Even without knowing what it was or what was happening, seeing the eclipse in her nightmares had terrified her. There was something so _wrong_ about it—and to think that it might be real, that it might _actually_ happen... She almost didn't want to know.

"Not all of our visions come true," Pema murmured. "The art of foresight is not so simple. We See things that _are_ , things that _were_ , things that _could be,_ and sometimes we See things that will never happen at all… But of this vision, we know one thing for certain. The Night of Eternal Darkness has occurred before."

Charla gulped. "It...it has? When?"

"Centuries ago, long before any of us were alive. Now the moons grow restless, and it's only a matter of time before their next great eclipse, when our world will be plunged into darkness…"

"What happens then?"

Charla dared to look up, and found herself locked in Pema's distant stare. The pangolin seemed to gaze straight through her, as if seeing things that only she could see, on a plane that Charla could never hope to glimpse.

"Strange things," she murmured. "The threads of mana become unravelled. The lines between life and death become blurred. The dead walk again. And those who have been touched by tainted magics are drawn to the pinnacle of this darkness, the place where a fool on a throne of blasphemy once twisted mana beyond recognition, to his dark and terrible purpose…"

Pema's far-seeing eyes came to rest again on the carving, but Charla already knew what she was going to say—so she said it for her.

"The Well of Souls."

"Yes." Pema blinked, and the distance seemed to fade from her eyes. She frowned at the mountain and the moons. "That is a place of terrible corruption, the centre of the depravity that consumes our realm. It's where the war began, long ago…and now we fear there is still worse to come from the depths of its darkness. The one you call the Dark Master is not done with us yet."

"The...the Dark Master?" Charla's wings quivered and her heart thumped in her throat. Even now, after everything, she had not forgotten the stories Jayce had once told her. The purple dragon, a beast of immeasurable power, fueled by a hatred of his own kind to start a war that would last centuries beyond his death… A myth, or not? "Does this 'Night of Eternal Darkness' have something to do with him?"

A shudder rolled through Pema's tiny body, and her long curled tail unraveled with a violent flick. She shook herself and turned sharply from the wall. "I'm sorry, I have said too much. I must not tell you any more than this. We do not speak of visions that are not yet certain to occur, and certainly not to guests. It is against our code of honour. I will say no more."

Charla gaped. She flailed a paw towards the carving, almost tripping over her own tongue. "But—but…! You have to tell me! You told me about the Night of Eternal Darkness! Why can't you tell me about the Dark Master?"

"Because we do not know for sure!" Pema whirled on her, and suddenly her soft and downy face looked anything but. It was sharp, angular, fierce. "We know the Eternal Night will come, as it has come before, as we have watched the moons draw closer together. But what comes along with it—the things we have foreseen that may yet happen on that night… We can only guess." She drew a shaky breath and looked away. "And I hope that we are wrong."

Charla swallowed hard. "...Why?"

But Pema shook her head. "I'm sorry, child. I cannot say."

"But…"

"However," said Pema, drawing herself up so that, for a moment, she was almost taller than Charla, "there is one more thing I can tell you."

Charla held her breath. Pema gazed solemnly into her eyes and spoke very clearly.

"I sense that you and your friends are on a great quest. I may not know your purpose or where your destination lies, but I warn you with all the sincerity I have: Stay far away from that place, that Well of Souls, that Mountain of Malefor. Dark things will happen there, as they have happened before, and no fool would dare to walk its halls when the celestial moons eclipse. Guard yourself from it, whatever happens.

"And should you continue to dream of it, I implore you…"—her eyes flickered in the pale light—"think of them only as dreams. You are not a seer. Do not let yourself be drawn in. Do not let it guide you like a moth to a flame. The Night of Eternal Darkness cannot harm you, as long as you do not seek it out."

Then she linked her claws inside her sleeves, sighed deeply, and bowed her head. "Now, please, Child of Qilin, let me take you back to your friends. I cannot tell you anything more."

Charla said nothing. She could hear her own heart beating in her ears, and a chilling frost was steadily crystallising inside her lungs. Stay away from the Well of Souls…? She couldn't do that. That was exactly the one thing she _couldn't_ do. Jayce and Silverback were waiting for her!

And if something terrible really was descending upon the Well of Souls, that was all the more reason to go there! She couldn't just leave them. She had to _save_ them.

But Pema's words ate at her resolve like acid, and fear of the unknown rose like bile in her throat. She wasn't even sure _what_ she was afraid of. This so-called Night of Eternal Darkness? The Dark Master? Some unspoken danger?

"When?" she croaked out, ignoring Pema's request. "When is it going to happen? When is the eclipse?"

Pema sighed and seemed to deflate. "That, I cannot say. We cannot be sure. In a month, perhaps, or even two—or maybe in as little as a few weeks. All we can do is watch the moons. They will tell us, in time…"

Charla clenched her paws to stop them from shaking. A few months, a few weeks... Surely she would make it there by then. They were almost halfway now, and they would be once they got to Lake Qilin. There shouldn't be any reason to worry about this eclipse thing and whatever came with it. They'd be there and gone long before this 'Night of Eternal Darkness' even happened...

Right?

Pema touched her shoulder and she jumped. The pangolin was smiling in that sort of motherly, reassuring way that made Charla feel young and stupid. She blushed and dropped her gaze.

"But there is no need for you to worry about it, I assure you. Dreams cannot hurt you, and we are far from that awful place." Her blunt claws gave Charla's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Now, let us go back to your friends. We don't want them to worry about you too much."

Her voice was soft but firm, and Charla knew there would be no more arguing with her. So, at last, she pulled her eyes from the carving, nodded mutely, and turned to follow Pema back across the dark chamber. Only then, as she raised a paw to walk away, did she think of something else. An ice-cold grip clenched around her stomach.

"H-hey," she called into the darkness. "Can I ask something else?"

Pema stopped near the middle of the chamber, where it was so dark that she was invisible except for the faintest hint of light on the edges of her robes. "One more quick question, then."

Charla hesitated, her claws digging into the floor. "Do—do you know anything about _my_ future?"

There was a pause. A sigh whispered through the blackness.

"The question everyone wants to ask..."

For a long few seconds, that was all she said.

Charla wavered. " _Do_ you, though?"

There was a quiet swish of robes and Pema's form moved in the dark. "I do not know. If there is anything, it will be recorded on these walls. But I do not know of all the dreams and visions Seen by my fellow monks."

"So... _you_ haven't seen anything?"

Another pause. Charla heart was still beating loudly in her ears.

"If I had," said Pema, "I would not tell you. Come. We've delayed long enough."

Then she walked away without another word, leaving nothing behind but the sound of her robes gliding steadily across the floor.

Charla lingered for a moment longer, alone in the dark, with only the faded glow of crystallized sap to give her light. That glow did not feel warm and comforting anymore. It was weak and cold, struggling to exist in the darkness. And this place frightened her. It seemed to whisper things to her—things she did and didn't want to hear, things she wasn't meant to know—and she didn't want to be there any longer.

One last time, she looked back at the carving of the Well of Souls and the eclipsing moons above its peak, and finally tore herself away.

Then she fled across the empty chamber, across the black void, where there were monsters biting at her heels, demons hiding in her shadow, creatures snatching at her tail—and she felt for the first time, as if the eclipse were already upon her, that no fire in the world was enough to hold back this darkness.


	14. Much Ado About Magic

**A/N: I was going to post this last night but I fell asleep, lol. Welcome to the 'everyone talks a lot and there's way too much exposition' chapter. :D I had fun with this, even if it's not exactly the definition of good writing. :P Enjoy! And thanks for reading, as always!**

* * *

 **Chapter 14**

 **Much Ado About Magic**

Charla knew she was in trouble the moment Lance swept the curtain open. She'd hardly raised a paw to reach for it when his burly green form filled the doorway, a storm brewing in his eyes. Meredy's anxious face peered over his shoulder, and Charla knew she'd sensed them coming. But before she could even open her mouth, a small white blur barrelled out of the room and thwacked her hard in the side of the head.

She staggered. Somebody gasped.

"Where the heck did you disappear to, you numbskull?" yelled a voice in her ear. "You had everyone worried!"

"Nuala, don't hit her!"

Charla rubbed her head and backed up a few steps, and Nuala's angry face swam into view. Her heart sank. Oh, great. They were all awake, they were all mad, and this was the _last_ thing she wanted to deal with right now.

Luckily, Pema took charge before she had to say anything. Nuala bristled like a death hound as the pangolin stepped forward and bid them all a good morning.

"I apologize for disturbing you," she said. "Your young friend here was wandering lost in the monastery. I believe she was looking for one of our monks, though most are in prayer in these final hours of the night... I thought I had best bring her back to you. Forgive me if you were kept waiting."

"It's fine," Lance grunted, sparing a brief glare for Nuala, who remained mercifully silent. "We haven't been awake long. Thanks for finding her and bringing her back; she has a bad habit of wandering off."

He gave Charla a long hard look and she dropped her eyes to her paws, her face burning. She could feel everyone leering at her, judging her, waiting for the chance to tell her off—but _they_ didn't know what she'd seen. _They_ didn't know about the carvings on the wall and the Night of Eternal Darkness. And somehow she doubted Pema was going to tell them.

"The curiosities of children," was all Pema said, smiling, before she changed the subject. "Forgive me for our rushed introductions last night; I had hoped to give you a tour, but it seems our times struggle to meet. Perhaps at dusk tonight? For now I must sleep, but please be assured that the monastery is yours to explore as you wish, provided you do not disturb the monks. It is easy to get lost, but keep your wits about you and I'm sure you will find your way."

"We'll keep that in mind," said Lance.

Quietly, Meredy added, "Thank you for letting us stay here." But Nuala just glowered and said nothing.

Charla, too, remained silent—even when Pema bid them all goodbye and dipped her head to them one more time.

"Oh," she added, pausing in the doorway, "and there is food left out for you down in the Great Hall, if you are hungry. Please make yourselves at home. We are glad to have you here."

Then she turned and left, her robes swishing rhythmically down the corridor and out of sight.

As the pangolin's footsteps faded out of earshot, Charla stared at the space where she had been. She could feel her friends' eyes burning into the back of her head, but she didn't turn around. Her mind was elsewhere—still trapped in that dark chamber, still cowering under the shadow of the eclipsing moons.

Finally, she turned around and tried not to cringe.

Lance gazed down at her, his eyes like cold iron; Meredy stayed quiet. But just as Charla was bracing for a nasty reprimanding, Nuala let out an exaggerated sigh and landed heavily on her back.

"Thank heck _she's_ gone. What were you even doing with her, Char? You made me think she was gonna follow us around and breathe down our necks all morning... Good thing they're nocturnal."

" _Good thing_ she was around to find the kid and bring her back," Lance growled, glaring at both of them. "I wasn't looking forward to an early-morning game of hide and seek. What do you have to say for yourself, kid?"

Charla scowled and scuffed the floor. Her throat was tight. It felt like she'd left her voice behind in the chamber of visions, and she couldn't have spoken if she wanted to. Even now, after a long silent walk through the monastery—in which Pema had refused to say anything more about the Night of Eternal Darkness—her mind could not stop replaying the pangolin's eerie words. Her stomach was still churning and she felt all cold and shivery, as if taken by a sudden fever. The last thing she needed was her friends yelling at her for doing the same stupid thing she couldn't seem to stop doing.

At least Nuala seemed to have forgotten about being mad.

"Oh, lay off her," she said, as if she wasn't the one who'd smacked Charla upside the head. "She just went for a little walk, no big deal. Besides, she came back."

"Maybe she should have said something before she left, though…" Meredy mumbled. "We were worried."

But Charla said nothing, and there was a long awkward silence. Finally, Lance muttered, "Got nothing to say, kid?"

She cringed and mumbled an apology to the floor.

There was a pause and then a sigh. Lance's voice came heavy with disappointment. "I don't know why I bother sometimes. Maybe one day you'll wake up and decide to actually _listen_ to me, but I'm not holding my breath. You know what you did wrong, kid. That's all I'll say."

All Charla managed was a nod. She felt sick, and not just from guilt—not just because the weight of Lance's disappointment hurt worse than the angry words she'd expected. Everything she'd heard in that chamber had left her feeling confused and shaken, and she wasn't even sure she could explain it. Not now. Not yet.

Part of her just wanted to go back to bed, hide under a cushion and pretend she'd never heard any of it.

"Are you okay, Charla?" Meredy asked suddenly, her voice tinged with worry. "You look a little unwell."

There was a flutter of feathers. Nuala's weight lifted off her back and then she was hovering in front of Charla's face, her eyes narrowed. "You kinda do, actually. What's up, Char? Did you find something _creepy_ while you were looking around?"

It almost sounded like she hoped so—but before Charla could even shake her head, Lance brushed Nuala out of the way. She squawked indignantly and smacked his paw, then fluttered over to rest on Meredy's head, scowling. Lance lifted Charla's chin with a claw, his brow furrowing.

"Your scales are dull," he said, searching her face with concerned eyes. "Are you feeling okay?"

Charla didn't know what to say; her voice was still a solid lump in her throat. She averted her eyes. "M'fine..."

He released her, still frowning. "Maybe we should go down to the hall and find that food Pema was talking about. We haven't had a proper meal in a while. You'll feel better with something in your stomach."

"I think that's a good idea," said Meredy. "I feel like I haven't eaten in days.."

"You look it, too," said Nuala, and that was what made Charla finally pull her eyes from the floor to _look_ at Meredy for what felt like the first time in ages. She was a little startled at what she found.

Meredy had always been thin, but not like this—not to the point where Charla could see the first hints of ribs protruding through her scales. Even her face was as hollow and gaunt as skeletal old Silverback, and there were great dark smudges under her eyes. Even her scales seemed thinner and paler than usual. How long had it been this way? She'd known Meredy hadn't been sleeping well, but this...

Charla swallowed and nodded again, and wondered if the empty churning in her stomach was hunger, guilt or fear—or maybe a mix of all three. Nuala clipped her over the horns.

"Buck up, Char," she said. "Let's get some food into you and then you can tell us all about the stuff you saw while you were creeping around. And ignore the big guy; you know he's always grumpy in the morning."

Lance snorted. "How could I not be when I have to wake up to you?"

But he did seem to have relaxed, and he eyed Charla with more concern than anger as he led them out of the room. Charla paused to grab her satchel—just in case she couldn't find her way back here later—and followed.

* * *

"Are those _bugs_?"

Charla recoiled and wrinkled her nose, and Lance coughed out a strange noise somewhere between a scoff and a laugh. It hadn't taken them long to find their way down to the Great Hall, which was as quiet and empty as it had been at the break of dawn, and now they faced a row of little wooden bowls that had been set out on a table for them.

Half were filled with clear fresh water. The others were full of bugs. There was no mistaking the crispy dried-up insects, with their papery wings, spindly legs and tiny pincers, all ladled out like the ingredients of some awful stew.

Were they expected to _eat_ that?

"What more can you expect from anteaters?" Lance chuckled. Then, without a wink of revulsion, he sat and pulled one of the bowls towards him.

Charla gaped.

Nuala fluttered over and descended upon the table, her eyes narrowed. She sniffed the bowl a few times, jabbed the bugs with a suspicious claw, and plucked one out to leer at it closely. Lance gave her a flat look.

"They're not poisoned."

"Doesn't hurt to make sure," Nuala sneered. But she seemed satisfied—and she popped a bug into her mouth with no further fuss. It crunched loudly.

Charla tried not to gag. She drew her lips over her fangs and stuck her tongue out, but no one seemed to notice.

She turned to Meredy, expecting, _hoping_ , to see another horrified face—but Meredy was already taking a seat beside Lance, and if anything she looked relieved. Only Charla hung back, her stomach churning all the more. Was this for real? They were actually eating them. They were eating _bugs_.

" _Gross_ ," she whispered.

Nuala looked up and raised her eyebrows, but it was Lance who responded.

"Don't be so picky. It might not be what you're used to, but they're perfectly edible. The monks were very generous to leave these for us and it's the only food you're going to get. Don't go turning your nose up because you don't like the look of it. You'll feel better after you've eaten."

"Beggars can't be choosers," Nuala added thickly, digging her paw into her bowl.

Lance scooped some into his mouth and Charla grimaced.

"They're _bugs_ ," she insisted. How were they not getting this? Bugs weren't food. They were gross and crawly and crunchy and... _ugh_.

"So?" Nuala crunched a few times and propped her head up with a paw. "Bugs are great. We eat them all the time—don't we, Merry?"

Meredy looked up from her bowl and swallowed, her cheeks pink. "W-well, they _are_ easier to come by than other prey. Nuala and I would have starved if we hadn't eaten insects while we were travelling. It takes some getting used to, but it's not that bad, Charla..."

Charla pulled another face.

Lance sighed. "Stop complaining and just try it, kid. I don't want to hear you whining later because you're hungry. You need to eat."

"Can't I have some of that jerky instead?" she begged, but Lance gave her a flat look.

"Those rations are for emergencies only. I'm not wasting them on picky eaters."

"But this _is_ an emergency! Bugs are disgusting!"

Unfortunately, no one seemed to agree with her. Turning her back on the offending table, Charla sat down and sulked, jutting her lower jaw out. Nobody paid her any attention, and the sound of munching and crunching soon filled the silence. She shuddered.

"At least drink something?" Meredy suggested, but Charla ignored her.

She was starting to wish they'd never come into this stupid forest in the first place. Boggarts and giant snakes and creepy visions of a creepy future she didn't understand… And now this! Bugs for breakfast! There was only so much she could take. She was one more piece of bad news away from throwing herself to the floor and screaming like she had when she was very young and Silverback hadn't let her do something.

"Oh, for heck's sake, Char, just eat something!" Nuala exclaimed, and Charla flinched. "We haven't had a good meal in days and we've still got a long way to go. You wanna be ready to head out soon, don'tcha? Get some grub in your gut, seriously."

"I don't _want_ to eat grubs!" Charla whined, but she turned and sat down at the table anyway, just so she could glare at the bowls and their awful contents.

If she hadn't, she might have missed the odd look that passed between Meredy and Lance. Lance raised his eyebrows; Meredy blushed and dropped her gaze.

Charla frowned.

"A...actually…" Meredy started, her voice so quiet it was almost lost beneath the sound of Nuala's chewing, "Lance and I were thinking we should stay here for a little while. Maybe...a few days?"

Nuala almost choked on her bugs. With a loud wet cough, a spray of half-chewed bits went flying across the table and Charla jumped back. Lance hissed in disgust. Massaging her throat, Nuala spluttered, "You _what_?"

"Don't go losing your lunch," Lance muttered, flicking a sticky piece off his paw. "It's not a big deal. We just think everyone could use a small break, especially after the last few days."

Meredy nodded quickly, but Nuala looked horrified.

"Not a big deal? You're talking about a huge waste of time—not to mention forcing us to stay in this bloody forest even longer! Aren't we on a mission here? This isn't a _sightseeing_ tour." She looked at Charla as if expecting back-up, but Charla's brain felt like it had frozen over.

A break? Here?

With the _pangolins_?

"Relax," said Lance. "It's only for a few days; just enough to rest up and prepare for the rest of the journey." He glanced at Meredy. "We're all exhausted and we'll travel faster when we're rested. Besides, we could use some time to make a plan; we still don't know how we're going to proceed after Lake Qilin."

"So?" Nuala shot back. "We can figure that out on the way. _I_ don't see a point in hanging around any longer. We already had plenty of rest at Earthsoul, and we wanna get to the Mountain of Malefor sooner rather than later—right, Char?"

Charla flinched. Her mind was buzzing again with thoughts of the eclipse and the Night of Eternal Darkness—but before she could gather herself to speak, Lance interrupted.

"Earthsoul was almost two weeks ago. I know none of us expected to find a rest-stop here of all places, but we might as well make the most of this. And we're still lost. The pangolins can help us."

Nuala huffed. "We don't _need_ their help. We wanted a break in the canopy so we could get up there and fly the rest of the way. There's one right outside. You saw the clearing last night. Even you could make it through there, big guy."

"That was the plan _before_ we had a better option. I'd rather be guided by someone who knows this place than fly around willy-nilly and hope we don't get lost again. We still don't know how far we are from the lake, and need I remind you that we dragons aren't long-distance fliers? We're not like you."

"Yeah, doesn't help that you're so _fat_."

"Nuala…" Meredy interrupted gently, while Lance rolled his eyes. "Wouldn't it be better to rest for a while? Travelling through the forest hasn't been easy, and we didn't get much sleep last night. A rest won't slow us down too much, I promise. I just...really need it…"

Nuala faltered, looking uncomfortable. She swivelled her ears back and forth. "I getcha, but… C'mon, we don't have to stay _here_. Let's just keep going until we get to the lake. We'll probably find a nice cave to rest in when we get there—I mean, it's bordered by a mountain range and all."

"Why bother when we've already got a room to sleep in? Not to mention free food." Lance raised an eyebrow at her. "Why are you so determined not to stay here? No apes are going to bother us while we're inside the forest. We're completely safe. And we haven't been able to say _that_ for a while."

Nuala bristled, her feathers fluffing out. "Look, you don't _know_ that. We don't _know_ these creatures, and frankly I think you're being a bit too blasé about this, especially for someone who's usually so suspicious about everything. That pangolin appeared out of nowhere last night, and you all decided 'oh hey, let's go with her because we can, even though we were nearly eaten by a giant snake and we don't even know if we can trust this weirdo.' Excuse me for trying to look out for us. _Someone_ has to. I say we should get out of here before anything bad has a chance to happen."

Then she sat back, looking sulky and stubborn after her little rant, and Lance stared at her like she was speaking another language.

"This is a monastery," he said flatly. "They're _monks_. Even if they could do us harm, it would go against everything they stand for."

Meredy uttered a pained sigh and added, "I thought we'd gone over this last night. You're acting so paranoid, Nuala. _Please_."

Nuala scowled and flattened her ears. Finally, with a huff, she turned her back on them and faced Charla.

"Well, that's _your_ idea," she grumbled, "but what does Char think? She's the reason we're even going to the Well of Souls, so let _her_ decide. Right, Char? We're kinda in a hurry, aren't we? Those apes are waiting for you."

Charla shrank a little. She knew what Nuala was doing—knew the real reason she was so loathe to stay here, among clairvoyants—but her words still rang true. A memory of the carving swam before her eyes, dancing to the echo of Pema's voice, and fear of the unknown crept again into her chest. The Night of Eternal Darkness was coming. Jayce and Silverback had already waited so long, and now, more than ever, time was running out. She had to get to them. She couldn't waste more time than she already had.

And yet…

 _'If there is anything, it will be written on these walls...'_

Her scales crawled. The thought that her future, a glimpse of things yet to come, could be written on the walls of this very monastery would not let her be.

What if it was something she needed to know?

What if it was something that could help her save Jayce?

She couldn't just ignore it. And if they left now, she might never find out.

Besides—she was tired, too. Her legs ached, her paws were raw, and a heaviness was settling on her back and eyelids that reminded her she'd gotten hardly any sleep last night. Maybe a few days wouldn't hurt…

"Staying for a bit won't set us back much," Lance assured her, as if he knew what she was thinking. "Like I said, we'll travel faster when we're rested— _and_ when we know where we're going. This will be good for us, kid. We need a break. We're not going to get much further like this."

His eyes flickered almost imperceptibly towards Meredy—Meredy with her gaunt face, matted fur and tired eyes—and Charla knew he was right. She twisted her paws and looked away.

"Let her decide for herself," Nuala snapped—but it was too little, too late.

"They're right," Charla said, not daring to meet her eyes. "We should stay for a few days. We still need to plan a lot and stuff…"

She trailed off and scratched at the corner of the table. Nuala was silent.

"Fine," she finally muttered, her voice thick with bitterness. "Sounds like you've all made up your minds. Just don't expect _me_ to save you if the pangolins decide to dress us up as their sacrificial cowleks."

She pouted and turned away, sticking her nose in the air. Lance flicked a bug at her.

"They're monks, not ancient barbarians. They don't sacrifice anything."

"Yeah, whatever." Nuala impaled the bug on one claw and ate it, glaring away into the empty hall. Charla wondered if she was the only one who noticed the nervousness sparking in her eyes. But when Nuala turned back to them seconds later, she had somehow arranged her face into the perfect neutral mask. "When did you guys decide this, anyway? You been having secret conversations behind my back or something?"

Meredy's face burned red through her scales."Of course not! I just mentioned it to Lance while you were looking for Charla…"

Charla sat up straighter. "You went looking for me?"

Nuala shrugged. "Thought you might have jumped out the window and gone for a fly, so I went to look."

"Oh…"

Charla stared into her untouched bowl and wondered if Nuala had also seen what lay above the canopy—the empty horizon, the endless ocean of trees. But she'd probably seen it days ago, now that Charla thought of it, back when they'd first gone astray. Nuala might have been the only one who'd really understood just how lost they were, just how completely the forest had swallowed them. But Charla knew now, and she wished she didn't. It made her stomach feel empty.

Or maybe that was just hunger. She poked at the bugs and they crunched under her claw, staring up at her with their weird dried-up eyes. She pulled back with a grimace.

Nope. Still gross.

"Where _did_ you go, anyway?" Nuala asked suddenly. "That pangolin said you got lost, but what were you doing? Did you find anything interesting? You were acting kinda spooked."

Blood rushed to Charla's face and then promptly drained again, leaving her cheeks cold and hollow. She twisted her claws under the table. "...Not really. I did go out and fly for a bit, but I mostly wanted to talk to a pangolin and I couldn't find one. I guess I did get kinda lost before Pema found me…"

She trailed off and shut her mouth. She couldn't bring herself to explain what she had seen, not while the thought of it still hung as bright and sharp as a blade waiting to drive into her flesh. Later, she told herself. She would tell them later—when her blood was less cold; when it didn't feel as real.

Nuala leered at her. "Is that all? Gee, boring. I thought you might have dug up something creepy. A torture chamber or something…"

"Nuala!" Meredy hissed, looking mortified.

"You're a real piece of work, you know that?" said Lance.

But Charla kept her mouth shut and tried to pretend that everything was fine. Even when Lance stood up and said he was going for a walk; even when Meredy scrambled to join him, eager despite her tired eyes to explore the monastery; even when Nuala groaned and said she'd rather go nap in the sun outside, but went with them anyway just so she wouldn't be alone. Even then, Charla stayed silent. And the words she didn't speak slowly petrified into a lump of cold stone that filled her stomach but did nothing to sate her hunger.

* * *

By midday, she had told no one. In fact, she was starting to think she shouldn't say anything at all.

They'd spent the morning ambling through the monastery, exploring places that Charla hadn't seen during her earlier wanderings, and uncovering such discoveries as an infirmary, a warren of bathing pools, and an entire library. But as much as she tried to be interested, her thoughts were caught the whole time in a web of fretful wondering.

Just how _would_ her friends react?

Lance was the one she most wanted to tell. Sometimes it felt like he knew everything, and maybe, just maybe, he might be able to tell her more about this so-called Night of Eternal Darkness. But, on the other paw, this was _Lance_. He didn't believe in dryads and prophecies and purple dragons, and he would probably just scoff if she told him an image from her nightmares had been engraved into the walls of the monastery.

And if he _did_ believe it… That could be even worse. He'd already tried to stop her once, and this might just give him another reason to keep her away from the Well of Souls. She didn't want to think about repeating _that_ argument.

Then there was Nuala, who had made her dislike of clairvoyants very obvious—and spent the whole morning acting like a particularly grumpy stormcloud—and Charla didn't think she'd want to hear any of it, let alone care.

That left only Meredy. And while Charla was sure Meredy wouldn't laugh at her, that was the only thing she was sure of. What if Meredy thought she was crazy? What if she got scared and said she didn't want to go with them anymore and Nuala got upset and Lance got mad and Charla ended up all alone again?

...Maybe that wouldn't happen. But it _could_. And Charla didn't want to run that risk.

No, she thought to herself, perhaps it was better that they didn't know. For all she knew, it wouldn't affect them anyway. The eclipse was still weeks, maybe even months, away—and now that she was outside in the sun, away from dark chambers and gloomy corridors, she felt a lot less frightened about it.

It was just a spooky story, and it wasn't about to stop her from saving Jayce. Not even the end of the world would keep her from that. If this 'Night of Eternal Darkness' really did come, she would just have to deal with it then.

So she pushed those niggling feelings of worry to the back of her mind and tried not to think of them.

But it wasn't long before Nuala had given her something else to think about.

"Have you thought about doing that too?" she asked as they sat together on an arch of mossy root, perched at the edge of the monastery's sprawling snake-like feet.

Charla, who had been slowly falling asleep in the warm midday sun, jerked up and blinked stupidly. "H-huh?"

"That." Nuala jerked her head towards Lance and Meredy, who were standing out in the middle of the clearing. "Practicing your magic. Like we talked about the other day, remember?"

"Oh...right."

Charla rubbed her eyes and stared blankly at her friends, who were currently in the midst of catching up on Meredy's magic lessons. It had turned into a beautiful day now that the rain had stopped, and the sun shone brightly through the gap in the canopy, filling the air with hazy shimmers of green-and-gold light. A cool breeze whispered over her scales. It was hard to believe this was the same gloomy forest they'd been lost in for so long. Only the surrounding tree-line—a dark, impassable wall of nature—reminded her of everything beyond.

She was glad to be outside. The vast emptiness of the monastery had not helped her nerves. There was something weird and creepy about its abandoned halls, as if the pangolins had disappeared into thin air rather than squirreled themselves away to sleep, and the dead stillness reminded her all too much of those cities left deserted in the wake of the Dark Army.

When she stared up at the towering monastery, its hundreds of dark windows gazed back at her like empty eye-sockets. She wondered if the pangolins found it weird to have guests who didn't sleep during the day. She also wondered if any of them were dreaming now—dreaming about things that were still yet to happen, things about her...

Then she shook the fog from her head and wrinkled her muzzle. A lot had happened since she'd had that passing conversation with Nuala. "I guess I kinda forgot about it..."

"You said you were gonna ask Lance for help, right? You should think about it. You'll want to be ready for anything when we get to the Mountain of Malefor. And once we're outta here, we'll be almost halfway there. You're running out of time."

Charla grimaced at that particular choice of words. She was trying _not_ to think about that.

When she failed to say anything, Nuala flicked an ear and added, "I, uh, did have an idea we could try, but I don't know... It's probably stupid."

"What sort of idea?"

Nuala swished her tail and angled her ears back, as if she wasn't sure she should say it. She'd been twitchy all morning, and she kept swivelling her ears as though listening for danger—as if she expected someone to jump out and grab her at any moment. It put Charla on edge.

"I was trying to think of ways _I_ could help you," Nuala finally admitted. "Illusions are great and all, but _you've_ got the firepower and there's got to be something I can do to back you up. But I dunno. The idea I had is pretty out there and it might not even be possible…"

"But what is it?"

She paused and fixed Charla with a narrow-eyed stare. "Well… Have you ever absorbed magic from something _other_ than a spirit gem?"

Charla gave her a long bewildered look. _That_ was a weird question. What else could there possibly be? Everything she'd ever been taught had told her that spirit gems were a dragon's most important source of magic, and that they'd be lost without them. She couldn't imagine there being something else.

But as she opened her mouth to say so, something stopped her. Something she remembered. The creature with the antlers… She _had_ absorbed magic from something else before—and it had happened only days ago. She'd absorbed so much that it had leaked from inside of her, burning her up from the inside out. All of that excess mana had come from _somewhere_ , and it hadn't been from a gem.

She licked her fangs. "Maybe. I'm not sure, but I think I might have…"

"You _think_ you have? How can you not know? You either have or you haven't!"

Heat rushed into her cheeks. "W-well, I don't know, okay? That thing that happened the other day, where I got all angry and Lance said I absorbed too much mana? I don't know where that magic came from, but I know it wasn't a spirit gem…"

Nuala looked hard at her, ears swivelling thoughtfully. "Right… I guess that's something. So it _is_ possible, right? It doesn't have to be a spirit gem?"

"Maybe? I don't know."

"C'mon, Char, you're a dragon. If you don't even know how your own magic works, who does?"

"I don't know, ask Lance!" Charla snapped, her face burning hotter. "I don't know _everything_."

Nuala uttered a short, sharp laugh and shook her head. "Yeah, no. He's the last dragon I'd want to ask. He doesn't like me and somehow I doubt he'd think much of my idea, either. Let's just say...it's something we should keep between you and me."

Charla scowled. Keeping secrets from Lance hadn't worked out well the last few times, and she already _had_ something she hadn't told him yet. But Nuala was probably right, so she grumbled instead, "Go read a book, then. That's what _I_ did when we were in Warfang. And there's a whole library here."

Nuala grimaced. "Ugh. Why does it have to be _books?_ But if you don't know anything, I guess that's my only other choice. Since you're forcing us to stay here, I might as well make the most of it... Hey, you can help me look."

"I don't even know what you're looking for!"

"You know, magic stuff. I'll tell you more when we get there. But you should definitely ask Lance to teach you a few moves and stuff. Maybe you'll learn some good tricks."

Charla huffed. "I guess..."

She gazed across the clearing and entertained the idea for a moment. She'd never had a proper magic teacher before. Silverback and Jayce, with no elemental magic of their own, could only do so much. Who knew what sort of things Lance could teach her? And, beyond wanting to know everything she possibly could, maybe it would help her save Jayce. She still vividly remembered the day they'd escaped the Well of Souls by the skin of their teeth, and she knew doing it again wouldn't be easy.

Especially if there was some weird magic-meddling eclipse coming their way...

"Don't use your paws. Keep me away without touching me; stop me with nothing but the wind."

Charla blinked out of her thoughts as Lance's voice drifted over to her. She watched them for a while, wondering what they were doing. Meredy was standing rigid in the centre of the clearing, and Lance was circling her like a predator would its prey. Nuala had pricked her ears to listen.

"I'm _trying_ ," Meredy shot back, her voice tight. "I can't _do_ it."

"Yes, you can. Shield yourself. Use the wind." He moved in as if to butt her with his horns, and she raised a paw to stop him. He backed off. "Paws on the ground, Meredy. Try again."

"I _can't_ ," she insisted, even as he lunged at her and she swept her tail around like a shield. "I'm not ready for this. I told you, my magic is _blocked_. I can't use it!"

"You can." He circled her slowly and she turned to follow his movements. "Charla told me what you did back in Earthsoul. You wouldn't be able to do that if your magic was blocked. It's trying to come back and you need to let it happen. The block is inside your head. All you need to do is let it go."

"I'm not ready for this! It's too soon! You're asking too much of me!"

Lance ignored her. He circled her one more time, and then—without warning, as if he really meant to hurt her this time—surged horns-first towards her. Meredy yelped and staggered; the breeze picked up around the clearing, whipping Nuala's forelock back. Charla held her breath. And then Meredy lashed out like a frightened animal and there was a resounding, painful _slap_.

Lance jerked back, rubbing his cheek. Meredy fell heavily onto her haunches, looking like she might cry.

"I'm sorry," she gasped. "I just– I panicked! Are you—?"

He pulled his paw away from his face, but from this distance Charla couldn't see if she'd done any damage. He kept his voice calm. "It's fine. You almost did it that time. You need to let it happen—if you don't, you won't be able to control it. Let's try again."

"No!" Meredy yelped, jumping to her feet. "I told you, you're asking too much of me! We're moving too quickly! I can't _do_ this!"

He frowned and loosened his stance, but didn't take his eyes off her. "Meredy, this is the next step. We've gone over the basics of understanding and controlling magic, and now you need to actually use it. You _can_ do it. We're not going to achieve anything if you don't."

"I said _no_!" She stamped a paw with an audible squelch. "It's too much, Lance—you're not listening to me! I don't want to do this! I don't _want_ to!"

Then she whirled around, sat heavily in the leaf litter, and buried her face in her paws. Lance stood rigid for several long seconds, staring at her back. Then he, too, turned away.

"Fine," he said coolly. "We'll try again later. You're clearly not in the right mindset for this."

Meredy lifted her head as he walked away, her face stricken. "Lance, wait... I'm sorry for hitting you. I didn't mean it..."

He paused. "Don't worry about it. Try practicing on your own for a while."

Then he walked away, leaving her staring miserably at her paws. Charla cringed. That hadn't gone well. She rarely saw Meredy lose it like that, like she was actually angry—or was frightened a better word?

As Lance stalked over to them, Nuala nudged her hard in the ribs.

"Ouch! What?"

"Ask him," she hissed, jerking her head towards Lance. "Ask him now."

"Now?" Charla hissed back. "But he's grumpy!"

"So? He's always grumpy. Ask now and offer to help him with Meredy—he looks like he could use it. He could teach you both at the same time."

Charla opened her mouth to say more, but Lance was already upon them and she had no time. Instead she exchanged a helpless look with Nuala, who raised her eyebrows expectantly. She gulped.

Lance sat down on the ground beside them with a heavy exhale. "Just when I thought we were getting somewhere..."

"How's she doing?" Nuala asked. "That, uh, didn't look so great from where we were sitting."

Lance scowled. "She could do it if she just let herself. Her magic is trying to come back, but she's not even giving it a chance. This block she has... It's all in her head. It's almost like she's _scared_ —and not just scared that she might not be able to do it, but scared of the magic itself, of her own powers... I don't know how to help her with that."

Nuala grunted and Lance shot her a shrewd look.

"How much do you know about how she lost her magic in the first place?" he asked. "What has she told you?"

Nuala shrugged. "Nothing in detail. All I know is that it happened right after she escaped Zephyr. I figured it was because of the trauma of seeing her home go up in flames—not to mention watching her mother die in front of her. She said the last time she used magic was when she flew away and escaped, but she never wanted to talk about it much. Can you blame her?"

He hummed grimly and said nothing, his eyes deep with unspoken thoughts. Charla fidgeted. Nuala jabbed her in the ribs again. Rolling her eyes, Charla steeled herself and opened her mouth.

"Hey, Lance?"

"What's up, kid?" He craned his head back to look at her. "You want to go explore the monastery more? Just give me a few minutes to rest and I'll come with you."

"Um, no…" Charla shuffled her paws, egged on by Nuala's unrelenting stare. "I just wanted to ask you something."

"Fire away, then."

"Would you teach me some stuff? Magic stuff, I mean, like you're teaching Meredy. I could join in and—"

"Teach _you_?" He twisted around to stare at her. "What could I possibly teach you? Your magic is fine; you can use it better than most dragons your age. And you're a _fire_ dragon. I can't show you how to—"

"Sure you can!" Charla insisted. "You know all sorts of stuff! Who cares if our elements are different? Meredy isn't an earth dragon, either. And you taught other dragons at the dojo in Warfang, didn't you? You could show me some moves that you know and I could…you know…"

"She could adapt them," Nuala cut in helpfully. "Or use them as inspiration. You might have different elements, but you're both dragons—your magic is similar enough that you should be able to share techniques, right? You might not use it anymore, but I'm sure you know your stuff, big guy."

Lance raised an eyebrow. "Was that a compliment? I'm flattered."

"Let's call it an 'observation.' …And don't get used to it."

He smirked, but when he turned his attention to Charla, that expression faded. "Look… I'm glad you're eager to learn, kid, but I've already got my paws full with Meredy and I'm not going to have enough time to teach you both. We're only going to be here for a few days, and once we move on it might be hard to make time even for her. I don't think…"

"But you don't have to teach us separately!" Charla leaned forward, digging her claws into her perch. "I can join in on your lessons! And I can help Meredy, too—you can teach us both at the same time! I promise I won't get in the way."

She felt more than saw Nuala nodding along with her, and she waited eagerly for Lance to tell her what a great idea that was—but instead he fixed her with a steely look.

"No way."

Charla faltered. "What? Why?"

Lance waved a paw towards Meredy, who was still sitting alone in the middle of the clearing and appeared to be sulking. "You just saw how much trouble Meredy is having as it is. Imagine how she'll feel if you waltz into her lessons and start showing her up with everything you can do. She's already struggling for confidence. You'd just make her feel worse and then we'd get nowhere."

"I wouldn't show her up!" Charla sat back, her face hot. "I could help her! I'm sure she'd be fine with it…"

With a heavy sigh, he stood up. "Kid, I'm sorry, but my answer's no. I'm not putting my lessons with Meredy in jeopardy just to teach you a few tricks. I don't have time for you both, and she needs my help far more than you do. Trust me—your magic is fine as it is."

Shaking his head, he started to turn away. Charla scrambled to her feet, trying not to slip off the mossy root.

"But—! Lance, wait! Just give me a chance! I promise I won't get in the way. I promise I won't ruin anything. I _want_ you to teach me. _Please_."

She knew she was begging, and she expected nothing—but, for some reason, he stopped.

It was like her words had turned him to stone. He halted mid-step and turned rigid, his shoulders tensing as if in response to danger. Charla stared at the back of his head. Nobody said anything.

"Um…" she started, almost concerned, but then he muttered something so quietly that she almost didn't catch it.

"Ancestors... I'm turning into my father."

Charla exchanged a confused look with Nuala, who shrugged. She stared at his back. "Lance…?"

As if that had been a cue, he whirled around. There was a strange, fervent look in his eyes now, and Charla shut her mouth. He stepped back towards her.

"Alright, you know what? I changed my mind. Next time we have a lesson, you can join in. On one condition." He jerked his head towards Meredy. "Make sure _she's_ okay with it—and I mean actually okay with it, not just pretending. Then get back to me. Okay?"

Charla gaped wordlessly for a few moments before she managed to spit out an 'okay.' Lance nodded once, turned his back on her, and stalked away to settle in a patch of milky sunlight. She stared after him.

There was a long silent moment.

"Well," said Nuala, "at least he agreed."

"Yeah... But I wonder why he changed his mind like that."

"Beats me. Who cares, though, right? He agreed and that's what matters. All you gotta do is ask Meredy and you're golden."

Both of them turned to look at Meredy, who hadn't moved from her previous spot and now seemed to be playing unhappily with the leaves at her paws. As they watched, she slashed her paw through the leaf litter, threw it into the air, and glared at the debris as it fluttered down around her. Charla and Nuala exchanged sheepish grins.

"Maybe ask her a bit later, though. In the meantime, how about you and me work on our own little training practice? I think I hear that library calling my name…"

* * *

Charla breathed deeply, inhaling the raw, earthy scent of wood and old parchment. The monastery library was a small and homey sort of chamber—not nearly as grand as the one at Warfang, but painfully familiar in a way that made her think of Silverback and lonely childhood days. Bright midday light streamed through its windows and painted its walls golden, illuminating glittering dust motes that danced around the antlers of another proud Qilin statue in the centre. The shelves curled almost protectively around it, like the petals of a rose.

Nuala soared past her and circled the statue, her eyes raking over rows of books and scrolls with a glint of appreciation. Charla still wasn't quite sure why she was so determined about this, or what her ' _idea'_ was, but something about Nuala's secretive enthusiasm made her curious.

As she stepped into the library, she heard Meredy's pawsteps patter quietly at her heels. The sky serpent had decided to tag along—most likely to get away from Lance, who had chosen to stay behind and nap in the sunlight outside. She hadn't spoken much since their little argument, and Charla hadn't had the guts to ask her about the lessons yet. There was something oddly intimidating about a quietly irritable Meredy. At least she hadn't complained when they'd gotten lost while trying to find the way back to the library.

"Not bad," Nuala said as she alighted on top of one of the shelves. "Looks promising, at least. Let's see what we can find."

"What are we looking for?" Charla asked, padding over. Meredy hung back, distracted by the nearby bookshelves.

"Just stuff about dragons," said Nuala. "Whatever we can find."

She leapt off the edge of the bookshelf and hovered down to look at the books, many of which were more than half her size. Charla watched her for a moment, then huffed and turned away. That wasn't much to go on. Where was she supposed to _start_?

It was a wall of scrolls that first caught her eye, recalling memories that made her shiver with a pang of guilt and longing. All those hours she had spent at the Warfang library, waiting for Chelcie, poring over scrolls about fire magic and maps of the Dragon Realms...

She shook the thoughts away and wandered over, gazing into the unorganised mess of bundled parchment tied up with twine ribbons. Who knew what sort of things the pangolins kept here? Finding anything she was looking for could take _hours,_ and there might not be anything about dragons at all. Suppressing a sigh, she picked up a scroll and began to search.

Minutes later, she was absorbed in an old scroll about the Zodiac and the Treaty of the Twelve Sapiens, told through the account of a pangolin monk who had lived thousands of years ago.

 _'The following is a transcript of Father Aadi's accounts during his pilgrimage to Talpidae, city of moles, as a representative of the Sanghali and the pangolin species as a whole for the signing of the Treaty of the Twelve Sapiens. It has been translated to modern common script for ease of reading._

 _"A. Q. 1421_

 _Midsummer's Day_

 _A stranger assortment of Qilin's children has never before been seen. The halls of Talpidae, a lavish but most unusual city, are filled with beings the likes of which I myself have never before had the pleasure, or indeed the displeasure, of meeting._

 _I could do without the incessant chatter and penchant to mischief of the vulpala, those winged foxes who arrived in flocks and insist on keeping silence to a minimum. Or, worse yet, the constant disagreement between canine and feline forced to share the same spaces, and the thunder of cloven hooves as minotaurs pace the corridors like imprisoned beasts. All of us are restless. Like myself, many of these beings are not adapted to life under the ground, but it was the moles who called for this treaty and so in their city beneath the earth we shall gather._

 _This is to be the day of signing. All who intend to be here have at last arrived. Myself and my fellow monks have already lingered here for many days, awaiting the last of them. 'Twas late last night when the peafowl arrived, and with that we number twelve – twelve of the most intelligent beings known to Oriens, the Eastern Lands. Twelve of Qilin's most favoured children._

 _Not all is to be expected, certainly. I must note the absence of the sea lions of the eastern coast, and the dragonflies of Fae Grove, though neither is so much a surprise. The sea lions are perhaps too primitive a culture – and, indeed, no creature of the sea is present here today – and there has never been an account of a dragonfly leaving the edges of his grove. The world is too great and dangerous for such a small creature, it seems._

 _Stranger, perhaps, and certainly more concerning, is the absence of the naga – not that I would be glad to meet one here in these dark halls. In intelligence they are not lacking, but their dislike of dragons is no secret, and perchance they are unwilling to sign away their rights to treat us all as prey._

 _There are surprises, too, among those who have made their presence known. The minotaurs, especially, make an unexpected sight. With their fondness for the sport of hunting dragons, one would think them to share the minds of the naga, but perhaps they cannot pass up the offer to become part of the greatest alliance never before seen in Oriens. The dragons continue to afford them a wide berth._

 _The presence of dragons themselves is not unexpected, along with their close cousins, the wingless serpents of the sky. They allied themselves with moles long ago, and I have my suspicions they were at least in part responsible for the calling of this treaty. It is an unusual alliance, in my view – there are many clues to be found in this earthen city that suggest the moles indeed continue to worship dragons as deities. One would expect the dragons to find this strange and inappropriate, but perchance their heads are as swollen as their mana pools. They are not shy in their efforts to garner attention, even amongst strangers._

 _Among the rest of the gathered crowd, there are little surprises. All of the most advanced cultures in Oriens have sent representatives. The peafowl of the north, the apes of the south, the atlawa of Tall Plains, the vulpala nomads, and a handful of each of the feline and canine tribes. The wolves are here alone, standing in for all greater and lesser canines of the Eastern Lands, but the felines seem to have been undecided and have formed a motley crew of cheetahs, tigers, pumas, panthers and even snow leopards. There has been much disagreement between them, but such is only to be expected amongst cats._

 _Ah, alas, I have forgotten the hare! Oh, but who has not. An unusual sight, the presence of these small and timid beings in their miniature waistcoats. Many of the creatures here would just as happily make them into prey – and that, I suspect, is exactly why they are here._

 _Nevertheless, under the clause of this treaty, the hares should have no reason to fear for their lives whether they join the alliance or not. It is, after all, the very first written rule: 'All who sign shalt not prey upon those that can speak their minds.'_

 _It is no wonder, then, that the naga..." '_

"Hey, Charla, did you know you're common?"

Wrenched from her readings, Charla jerked her head up and looked around stupidly, blinking in the sunlight. She felt like someone had just popped a bubble she hadn't noticed she was floating in. She rubbed her eyes. "What?"

Smirking a bit, Nuala fluttered down to her with a small book open in her paws. "Listen to this."

As she started to read, Charla looked around and spotted Meredy on the other side of the library, browsing through the shelves. The light through the windows was growing warmer, and shadows lengthened across the floor. Resting her paws on top of her half-read scroll, she looked back up at Nuala.

"Of the four main dragon subspecies, the fire dragon is by far the most common," read Nuala, "comprising nearly forty percent of the entire dragon population. In fact, they are more than twice as common as the rarest of the subspecies, the electric dragon, and only the earth dragon comes close to challenging this number. The fire dragon is easily spotted for its bright scales, found in varying shades of red and orange—and, in rare cases, _black_."

She paused to grin at Charla. "How cool would that have been? You could have been black! Sounds badass."

"Or frightening," said a quiet voice behind them, and they twisted around to find that Meredy had come over to see what they were talking about. Her ears were down. "I don't think I ever want to see another black dragon as long as I live."

Nuala cocked an eyebrow. "If you're talking about the Terror of the Skies, I doubt she's some weirdly-coloured fire dragon. Hasn't she got all sorts of creepy powers? She's probably just black because of the dark magic."

"Maybe..." Meredy mumbled, looking away.

Charla sat up. "She's gone now, though, right? Like...dead or something. That's what Kafik said."

" _Who_?"

"The ape we met. The one with the dreadwing."

Nuala wrinkled her muzzle. "Oh. _That_. Why do you even remember its name? Whatever, it doesn't matter. If she _is_ dead, yay for us, but I wouldn't count on anything an ape says." She cleared her throat. " _Anyway_ , as I was saying... Apparently you could have been black, and Lance could have been dirt-brown—which is a shame because that totally would have matched his personality more, am I right?"

She grinned at both of them, but Meredy said nothing and Charla rolled her eyes. Nuala pulled a face and snapped the book shut.

"But none of this is what I'm looking for, anyway," she said. "Colour variations and population statistics and crap... Why do the pangolins even have boring info like this?"

"They're scholars, Nuala," Meredy sighed, as Nuala shoved the book back onto the nearest shelf. "This is their life's work. I suppose it only makes sense for them to study dragons... They _are_ one of the most abundant species in the Dragon Realms."

"Rhetorical question, Merry. I know what monks do."

Meredy pursed her lips.

"What _are_ you looking for, then?" Charla asked again.

"I told you, stuff about magic."

"Dragon magic?" Meredy asked, her brow furrowing. "Why?"

Charla resisted the urge to ask the same question, and Nuala swished her tail impatiently. "Just trying to find something out, Merry. Something to help Charla with, hopefully."

And still she didn't elaborate. Maybe, Charla thought, she didn't want to in front of Meredy. Maybe Meredy was thinking that too, because she didn't look very happy; she looked at Nuala as if she suspected her to be planning something nasty. Charla quickly intervened.

"Let's all look through the scrolls together," she suggested. "It'll be faster than going through all the books. We can try that if we don't find anything."

Nuala clapped her paws together, her face brightening. "Good plan! Let's do that. Lend us a paw, Merry, and then you can go back to whatever you were doing."

Meredy just sighed. Nuala darted close to the scrolls, her beating wings making them shudder as if in fear, and started to search.

Minutes later, all three of them were practically buried in parchment. Nuala kept tossing the unwanted scrolls over her shoulder, and Meredy's feeble attempts to gather them into a pile hadn't achieved much. So far, they'd found nothing. And Charla was bored. She couldn't even find the scroll she'd been reading before, and she was starting to wish Nuala would give up on this and just blurt out whatever her dumb idea was.

But Nuala was determined, and so they continued.

In the end, it was Meredy who found what they needed. As Nuala tossed another two unravelled scrolls away, her voice very quietly broke the silence.

"Um… I think this might be something useful…?"

Nuala jerked around at once. "Where? Show me!"

Meredy held out the scroll in her paws, and Charla saw she hadn't even opened it. But before she could ask, Meredy pointed to the small wooden tag hanging from its twine.

"This has the symbol of Mana on it. See?"

"The _what_?" Charla leered at the tag. There was a strange hook-like swirl in its centre, jagged and angular—and somehow familiar. Hadn't she seen this before? She thought of Warfang and Pyreflight, and she was sure she had.

"The swirl of Mana," said Meredy, looking surprised. "It's the symbol of dragon and serpent magic, which encompasses all five elements. Some call it the sixth element, but it's really a combination of all of them."

Charla blinked. A sixth element? Abruptly, as if wrenched from the deep dark corners of her mind, she remembered the huge mural she'd seen all the way back Pyrelight—the one with the crests of all five elements, surrounding that curling hooked symbol. So that's what it was. The symbol of Mana. If she remembered correctly, _Star Tales_ said that the purple dragon could use a strange power called Mana's Fury—a combination, it claimed, of all elements in one. Maybe this was kind of the same thing?

"That's great and all, but are we going to read the scroll or not?" Nuala rolled her eyes and snatched it from Meredy's paws. "Thanks, Merry. You can go now if you want."

Meredy raised her eyebrows as if she wanted to protest, but she seemed to think better of it. Deflating a little, she plodded towards the other side of the library—but Charla didn't miss the anxious, almost suspicious look she shot back at Nuala. Nuala, however, was too busy unrolling the scroll. Charla craned her head and saw a title written in elaborate curling script.

 _The Peculiarities of Draconic Mana_

"This looks like what we need, alright." Nuala grinned and hunched over the parchment, her eyes darting through the inky words.

For a long few moments, nobody spoke.

Charla scanned the words without really seeing, her attention caught mostly by the images. She lingered on a diagram of a dragon breathing fire, which looked like it had been drawn to show off some kind of stomach-like organ inside the dragon's lower ribs. Charla supposed that was what they called the 'mana pool.' She'd hardly given it thought before.

What exactly was Nuala looking for, though?

Just as she was about to open her mouth and ask yet again, Nuala spoke.

"This is it," she muttered. "This is exactly what I was looking for. It even says..."

"What?" Charla asked eagerly. "What does it say?"

Nuala flicked her with a wingtip and turned around. "It says you need to stop breathing down the back of my neck."

Charla glared. Nuala grinned.

"Okay, look," she said, pinning the scroll under her paw so it couldn't roll itself back up. "The thing about dragon magic is that it's weird, you know? Nobody else uses magic like you do—absorbing it and storing it and stuff—and, heck, you can even run out of it! That's weird, Char. No one else just 'runs out' of magic. I wanted to know _why_."

 _How is it weird?_ Charla wanted to ask, her stomach pricking with a hot rush of indignation, but Nuala didn't give her the chance.

"Listen to this," she said, and started reading aloud without missing a beat. " 'Research suggests that dragons were not always this way. The earliest known dragons appear to have utilised mana in much the same way as other creatures of the world, in the passive consumption of energy from the surrounding environment. At this time, they were only known to breathe fire and were incapable of performing the explosive feats of mana that dragons are known for today. It is also worth noting that these prehistoric dragons did not have scales, but rather sported tough leathery hide much like lizards.'

'At some point in history, this changed. Stories differ on the suddenness of this change, but the common consensus today is that centuries of consuming crystallised growths of concentrated mana—someday to receive the unusual moniker 'spirit gems'—saw a gradual evolution in the prehistoric dragon. They developed an extra organ solely for storing mana and lost their leathery hide in favour of magic-resistant scales.' "

Nuala paused for a breath. Charla goggled at her.

" 'These brightly-coloured plates of armour likely developed as a response to the newly evolved mana pool, which afforded dragons a fearsome and dangerous control over magic that had never been seen before. This newfound power proved an unmatched threat not just to other beings but to their own kind, and it is thought dragons may have wiped themselves out if they had not developed this resistance to mana.'

'The unwelcome side-effect of this resistance, however, saw dragons no longer effectively able to consume mana passively from the environment. As a result, they became reliant on spirit gems, _and other conduits,_ through which magic could be absorbed directly…' "

Nuala broke off with a grin, her eyes alight, as if she expected some reaction from Charla—but Charla just felt confused and a little bit stupid. She shuffled her paws.

"Um… I think I missed some of that."

Far from looking annoyed, Nuala laughed. "Okay, basically, your ancestors used to use magic normally like the rest of us. Then they ate a bunch of crystals and grew a special organ to store excess mana, and then grew scales so they didn't accidentally kill each other. But your scales also stop mana from flowing through you, so you have to absorb it directly from something else—like a spirit gem."

Charla blinked. "Isn't that...how everyone does it?"

Nuala laughed again, and Meredy glanced over to them as if she thought Nuala might be losing her mind.

"Is that what you think? Nah, Char. You dragons are _weird_. Nobody else stores magic like you do. For us, it's just sort of...there. It's in the air and the ground and the plants, and it's in us. My mother once told me that using magic is kind of like breathing. We don't even think about it; it just happens. Mana flows into us and out of us all the time and we don't even notice. You only really start to feel it if you're somewhere where there's a _lot_ of magic…"

"Like here?" Charla blurted out, unable to help herself. From the moment she'd stepped foot into Whisperglade, she'd felt the magic in the air—that faint tingle on her scales, the shiver in her lungs.

"Yeah." Nuala's ears twitched and her grin faded a little. "There's a lot of magic here, so much that even _you_ feel it. For me it's like...pins and needles. It almost hurts."

Charla hesitated, her head reeling with all of this information. "But...wait. Does that mean you never run out of magic? Because that would mean you're even stronger than us! You can just keep using as much magic as you want and nothing can stop you!"

Nuala held up a wing to silence her. "Sort of, but no. Sure, we can just keep using mana to our hearts' content, but we can't control it like you do. It's always there, helping us do things, create things—but you're the only ones who can use mana itself like it's a _weapon_. You can store huge amounts of it—way more than whatever pitiful amount of it flows through _us_ —and you can fire it out at will with as much force and power as you want! Heck, you can shoot it out all at once and turn yourselves into living explosions that destroy everything around you! ...That's scary, Char. No one else can do that."

Charla gulped. She'd never thought of it like that before. Silverback had taught her all he could about magic, but he'd never explained it like this. Maybe he, with no magic of his own, hadn't realized it either. Her mind flung back to that moment in the forest, her mana pool overflowing with excess magic, her body blazing with the force of a power she couldn't contain—and the sense that she could destroy everything in her path, that she could burn down the whole forest if she only wanted to.

 _Dragons are powerful,_ Nuala had said once, in the aftermath of Pyreflight. Only now did Charla start to understand what she meant.

"So...so what does this have to do with your idea?" Charla asked weakly, and Nuala's grin lit up her whole face with a wild, fervent fire.

"I'll tell you," she said, "but you have to promise to keep it between us. Lance and Merry might try to get in the way. I mean, it's a bit weird, it's probably never been done before, and it might even be a little bit dangerous… But what's life without a little danger, am I right?"

Her eyes blazed. Charla hesitated, but nodded. This was Nuala. Surely she knew what she was doing.

Nuala's grin widened. Darting a look behind her, as if checking to make sure Meredy wasn't listening, she shuffled closer and lowered her voice.

"I was trying to think of ways I could stop you running out of magic," she murmured. "Like, you can practice and get super powerful and all that, but what happens if you run out of mana while you're fighting Gaul? You'd be dead meat! But we can't just carry around infinite supplies of spirit gems. There _has_ to be something else.

"And that's when I had the thought. What if you could absorb magic from something that isn't a spirit gem? And if you can absorb it from another _thing_ … What's stopping you from absorbing it from another _creature_?"

She leaned close, her ice-blue eyes alight like frozen flame, and Charla's heart thumped in her throat. Nuala's warm breath tickled the side of her head, as her whisper shivered tremulously from her lips and into Charla's own thoughts.

"What if you could absorb magic from _me_?"


	15. Brewing Up Storms

**Chapter 15**

 **Brewing Up Storms**

The Great Hall was packed with pangolins.

There were hundreds of them, from the young and bright to the wrinkled and old, their sweeping robes like a sea of dappled green in the heart of the tree. Charla sat between Pema and Lance at a table near the front of the hall where she could see out over everyone, and countless beetle-black eyes twinkled back at her.

Dusk had fallen some time ago, and the world outside was dark. But the inner chambers of the monastery glowed like golden fire, the walls alive with yellow-patterned geckoes that shimmered just enough to stave off the night.

"Tonight," Pema called into the silence, spreading her arms, "we officially welcome our unexpected guests, the dragons Charla and Lance, and their companions Meredy the sky serpent and Nuala the vulpala. We give thanks to Qilin for leading them safe to us."

"We give thanks."

Charla shivered and sat up straighter as those words were echoed by every pangolin present, creating a rumbling murmur that reverberated within the cavernous hall. She felt the words thrum inside her chest, like thunder rolling in the clouds. Glancing down the table, she exchanged a grin with Meredy, whose cheeks were bright with awe—and whose spirits had lifted drastically since her less-than-happy lesson with Lance earlier. She'd already given the all-clear for Charla to join in on the next, much to Charla's excitement.

But on Meredy's other side, Nuala had a face like a thunderhead. She kept flicking her wings, like she wanted nothing more than to fly away, and she'd been like that all evening,

The pangolins had come down from their prayer rooms at the cusp of sunset, and the first thing they did was crowd around Charla and her friends with greetings and welcomes and much shaking of paws. But that hadn't lasted long before the senior monks had shooed them away, and then they'd all traipsed out into the forest in orderly straight lines. Pema had hung back just long enough to say they were going on the 'Alm's Walk'—a kind of hunting trip, as far as Charla understood it—before they'd all left clutching empty wooden bowls. They'd returned on the far side of dusk, those bowls spilling over with bugs.

And now those bugs were sitting on the table in front of Charla, thankfully no longer squirming but no less unappetizing. She tried not to look at them.

As Pema finished her speech and took her seat, another pangolin rose in her place. This one was pale and wrinkled, but he surveyed them all with bright eyes still full of life. When he spoke, his voice was strong.

"Before we eat, we give thanks to Qilin and to the generous lay-pangolins of Whisperglade for providing us with this meal."

"We give thanks," echoed the hall, and Charla shivered once more.

Then the old monk sat down, and the feast began. That is, if it could be called a feast. Bugs were the only thing on the menu, though it seemed Charla was the only one who had a problem with that. Everyone else ate happily, and a friendly hum of chatter soon rose to fill the Great Hall. Charla looked down at her bowl and grimaced.

She'd eaten nothing all day, and her stomach was all but caving in on itself. If only she'd been able to steal some jerky from Lance's satchel earlier...

On cue, Lance nudged her with his elbow. "Eat something. It looks impolite if you don't."

Charla scowled, but this time she did as he said. With her stomach full of nothing but air and stifled fears, even bugs were starting to look edible. Besides, Pema was sitting right next to her, and she got the feeling that every pangolin in the hall was watching her.

That might not have been far from the truth, actually. When she looked up from her bowl, trying not to grimace as she forced herself to eat a mouthful, she caught several pairs of dark eyes glancing her way. She stared too, letting her gaze wander amongst the monks. It wouldn't surprise her if they'd never actually seen dragons in the flesh before. This place was so hidden and secluded that it seemed like no one ever came here, like the pangolins lived in their own little world where there was no one but them and the creatures of the forest.

Charla doubted any ape had set foot here, either, and she wasn't sorry for it. After the encounter with Kafik and his dreadwing on the Northern Plains, she'd been uncomfortably reminded of everything terrible that was happening down south—everything she had escaped from and would soon be returning to. But here, that awareness had started to fade again. She felt safe, detached from the world, as if the war didn't exist.

Or she would have if the Night of Eternal Darkness hadn't been looming over her like a shadowy beast.

She drummed her claws on the tabletop and glanced sidelong at Pema. Something about being this close to her, just like they'd stood in the chamber of visions, made the back of her neck prickle. After all that, Charla wasn't sure that she liked Pema all that much. The pangolin made her nervous. She was a well of unspoken knowledge, like she knew things about Charla and her friends that she refused to say—secrets and fortunes and bad omens…

Nuala's dislike of clairvoyants was starting to make a little more sense to her now.

But Meredy, sitting on Pema's other side, seemed in perfect awe of her. As Charla tuned out the incoherent chatter of the hall, she heard snippets of their conversation and watched Meredy's eyes light up with interest as Pema patiently answered her questions. Despite herself, Charla leaned forward to listen.

"The statue in the entrance hall," she heard Meredy say, "that's the mana god Qilin, isn't it? The father of magic and creator of the forest; the one you devote yourselves to."

"You are well informed." Pema smiled, and Meredy's face flushed pink with delight.

"I-I used to read a lot," she stammered. "I thought your practice here was fascinating… I never thought I'd meet you myself. It's such an honour…"

"The honour is ours, to play host to Qilin's favoured children. We all are his children, of course, but you and your companions"—she nodded towards Charla and Lance—"are descendants of those who carry his mana and his blood. He made you in his image and gave you his deepest, strongest magics, for better or for worse. Having you here as our guests is almost like playing host to Qilin himself."

At this, Charla couldn't help herself. "Is that why you keep calling us that thing?"

"Children of Qilin?" said Pema, glancing at her. "Certainly. Consider it a mark of respect."

Charla looked back at her bowl, tail swishing. Meredy started speaking again, and Charla wavered, torn between her discomfort with Pema and her innate need to know everything. Ultimately, the latter won out—as it often did.

"Is it real, though?" she interrupted, the words blurting from her lips before she could rethink them. "Qilin, I mean. Is it like a real actual creature? Something you could see in the forest, maybe?"

She tried to sound casual, unsuspicious, but she heard Lance exhale softly and knew he'd read her thoughts. She didn't dare meet his eyes. Pema, on the other paw, seemed unbothered.

"Qilin is mana itself," she said. "He left his mortal form behind long ago, but at times he may take the shape of his former body here in the magic-rich wilds of Whisperglade. Consider yourself blessed if you ever do catch a glimpse of him through the trees. Wherever he runs, he leaves mana behind him, and dryads flock in his wake..."

"Dryads?" Charla stared at her. "The dryads are real too?"

Pema nodded, and something like an excited shiver tingled through Charla's wings. She resisted the urge to twist around and give Lance a much-deserved 'I told you so' look.

"Qilin created the dryads as his guardians," Pema said. "When he turned his mortal body into the Forest of Whisperglade, he brought them to life as protectors of the trees, and they still remain such to this day. These very trees in which we make our monastery were once dryads too, did you know? Long ago..."

"Don't fill her head with too many stories," Lance cut in with a wry smile. "Or she'll never stop asking questions."

Charla scowled at him, but Pema's eyes twinkled. "Ah—but, Lance, what is life without stories? Let her question. It's how we learn."

Then she smiled at Charla the same way she'd smiled in the chamber of carvings, all tender and fond, like a mother looking down at her small naive child. Charla shuffled uncomfortably and looked away. Almost accidentally, she made eye-contact with Nuala, who flicked her ears and scowled as if to say 'let's _go_ already'—but no one else seemed in any rush to leave the table. Charla forced down another mouthful of bugs.

"Are the dryads dangerous?" Meredy asked. "The stories I've heard always tell of them playing nasty tricks on travellers, luring them off the path and getting them lost in the forest, never to be seen again…" Her cheeks went pink again, and she glanced at Charla but said no more than that.

"Dryads are tricky creatures," Pema conceded. "They do not play nicely with those they perceive as threats to the forest, and they are drawn strongly to fire and to powerful sources of magic. The heat of fire helps their seed-pods to split and take root, and without sufficient mana, their young may never grow into anything more than normal trees. They do what they must to survive and protect the forest."

"Most of our kind don't believe they exist," Meredy admitted, and Pema nodded.

"A frightened dryad will turn itself into a tree at the first sign of danger—a change that may be permanent if the threat proves too much. I believe it would be hard, beyond the borders of Whisperglade, to prove their existence. As far as I am aware, no dryad has ever been taken into captivity. If they were, I suspect the captor would soon find himself in possession of nothing but a normal tree."

She allowed herself a small, almost mocking smile, and Charla shot a quick look at Lance. But his face was a neutral stone wall, and he showed no sign that he believed any of this—or that he didn't. She decided to ask later. So, with her thoughts quite full of everything else that had happened today, she for once stayed silent and let Meredy ask the questions.

By the time the meal was over, and all of the monks were rising from their seats to clear the empty bowls away, Charla was almost asleep on the table. Her bugs were all but gone, and she had to concede that maybe they weren't as bad as she'd expected—dry and crunchy, but not bad. Now, with her stomach no longer groaning, a pleasant sleepy buzz had started to hum inside her head—at least until Lance stood up and said it was time for bed.

Charla jolted her head up. "I'm not sleepy!"

She staggered to her feet, swaying on tired paws, as Pema began to collect their bowls. There was still so much she wanted to do, so much she didn't know. To see the carvings on the wall again, to ask the other monks about her future and the Night of Eternal Darkness, to find out what it was that pangolins did when they were up and about in the dead of night...

"I don't want to go to sleep yet! I want to talk to the monks!"

But Lance shushed her and draped a wing over her shoulder. "Kid, you're exhausted. You hardly got any sleep last night and you look like you're about to fall over. I know you're excited about everything, but we're not leaving for another few days yet. You'll have plenty of time to talk to the monks and look around this place."

"Besides," he added, as Charla tried to wriggle away and he looped a paw around her shoulders, "you'll want to have your wits about you tomorrow if I'm going to teach you anything. I can't have you setting the monastery on fire because you're too tired to keep your eyes open. Okay?"

Charla scowled. The monks were filing out of the Great Hall as they spoke, taking with them the warmth of company and whatever chance she'd had of getting answers tonight—and Nuala was hovering nearby, looking dangerously impatient.

"Fine," she grumbled, letting Lance usher her towards the stairwell. "But I'm _not_ tired. I won't even be able to sleep."

"Sure, kid. Sure..."

* * *

Charla fell asleep almost instantly, and she slept like a log until Nuala poked her awake in the early hours of the morning.

Startled from a dream she didn't remember, she snorted and opened her eyes to the vulpala's silhouette leaning over her. It was still dark, but the forest outside the window was starting to lighten with a greyish-green glow. Lance was snoring.

"Move your rump," Nuala whispered. "Let's get started before these guys wake up, yeah?"

"Get started?" Charla mumbled, rubbing her eyes.

Nuala snorted. " _Yes_. Don't tell me you forgot already. We gotta start sometime, and sooner is better than later. But if we want to keep it a secret from these two, we gotta pick our moments. So let's _go_."

Right… Nuala's idea…

Charla groaned and pulled herself to her feet, feeling like her head was full of rocks. A sleep-in would have been nice. But she blinked the fog from her eyes and plodded groggily after Nuala, who headed not to the door but to the window. Charla placed her claws carefully, holding her breath. Lance was dead to the world, but Meredy was twitching in her sleep, and her lips kept moving as if she was trying to whisper something. Charla eyed her anxiously as she passed.

Another nightmare. Charla had lost track of the last time she had seen Meredy sleep peacefully. She almost wanted to reach a paw out and shake her awake, to free her from whatever awful dream kept her whimpering at night, but this was not the time for that. So, leaving her twitching on the floor, Charla slunk guiltily to the window.

Nuala was already waiting, swishing her tail. Charla clambered up onto the windowsill and they leapt together out into the cold predawn air.

A steady drizzle engulfed them as they soared away from the monastery and circled towards the ground. Nuala grumbled something and darted into a nosedive with a flick of her tail, pulling up only when she had nearly hit the forest floor, but Charla followed more sedately and was shivering by the time she landed. Puddles glistened in the clearing, lit by shifting points of moonlight, but the surrounding trees were hidden beyond a haze of misty rain. Nuala led the way into the tangled roots of the monastery.

As leaves, mud and moss squelched under their paws, Charla wished she was still curled up inside, fast asleep. At least the towering roots afforded them some cover.

"Here," Nuala muttered, padding beneath one gnarled arch in search of a crevice that wasn't quite as muddy as everywhere else. The root served as something of a ceiling, though the curtains of moss that drooped down its sides still dripped with rainwater. "This'll do."

Charla brushed the moss aside, grimacing. "Do we have to be out here? It's gross. I want to go inside."

"I'm not dealing with pangolins while they're still plodding around in there," Nuala snapped. "They'll ask too many questions. Unless _you_ can think of a place where they won't bother us, we're staying outside."

Charla pouted. "Fine. But what are we even doing?"

"That's what we're working out. Come on, come sit already."

Charla did as she was told, albeit with a grumble and a scowl, and for a moment they sat together in the muddy earth and listened to the rain whispering above their heads. Both of them shivered. Charla stared at Nuala.

"Now what?"

Nuala flicked her ears. "Well, _I_ dunno. How do you usually absorb magic?"

"Um… I find a spirit gem and smash it."

"Great. Helpful." Nuala frowned and laid her ears back, and neither of them said anything for another moment.

Charla huffed. Now that she stopped to think about, she had no idea where to start or what to do. Nuala's idea was bizarre at first glance, and it seemed even crazier the more she thought about it. How was it even supposed to work? She couldn't break Nuala into shards to absorb her magic—and even if she could, what would that mean for Nuala? What if she disappeared and never came back? Charla shuddered to think of it.

It was too weird, she decided. If it _was_ possible, wouldn't she have heard about it before? She couldn't absorb magic from _anything_ she wanted; she'd only ever done it, at least intentionally, with gems. But then she remembered the Qilin creature, and she reminded herself that she'd never actually tried with another animal before…

"Well, we need to try _something_ ," Nuala said. "Look, give me your paw."

Bemused, Charla extended one foreleg and Nuala grabbed it between her paws, then hugged it to her chest. They stared at each other. Raindrops dripped and pattered in the mud. Charla ran her tongue nervously over her fangs.

"So, what do you feel?" Nuala asked.

"Uh… Your fur?"

"What else?"

Charla hesitated, then pressed her paw more firmly into Nuala's damp fur, until she felt the warmth of the skin beneath and—very faintly—the pulse of a beating heart. She trembled. Nuala's claws tightened on her wrist.

But there was nothing else. No rolling heat of trapped mana, no shivering tingle of magic at her claw-tips. This was just her friend, not a spirit gem. Not a source of mana free for the taking.

She shook her head and started to pull away, but Nuala dug her claws in.

"Wait. Let me try this."

Charla halted and froze, trapped by the vulpala's bright-eyed stare. That stare grew brighter the longer she looked—but it was only when Nuala's markings started to glow too, throwing pale blue light across her fur, that she realised what was happening. Nuala was using her magic. Brighter and brighter she glowed, like blue fire, until even their shaded little crevice was shining like light through deep water, and Charla struggled not to look away.

Almost absentmindedly, she dug her talons into Nuala's chest-fur—and that was when she felt it.

A spark. A shiver. An ember of distant warmth. It bloomed like a growing fire, and Charla felt it rise to meet her paw, as if seeking her out, as if she was pulling it towards her. A tingle of magic rippled through the scales between her claws, dancing tantalizingly just out of reach—and she grabbed for it, yearning for it, desperate for it.

She wanted it. She _needed_ it.

Then Nuala yelped suddenly, her glow faded, and Charla wrenched her paw back, heart pounding. A tiny bead of blood blossomed through the furrows she'd left in Nuala's fur, staining it pink. Nuala rubbed her chest, hiding the wound, her ears pricked.

"Don't go stabbing me now," she said—but her voice was light, amused. "You want my magic, not my blood."

"S-sorry. It was an accident." Charla looked down at her claws, exhaling shakily. Her head was still buzzing, her scales still tingling. "I...I felt something. I think it was your magic. It _felt_ like magic."

At once, Nuala's face brightened. "For real? Excellent! Let's try it again, and try not to skewer me this time."

"I...I don't know. Maybe we shouldn't." Charla shrank back, suddenly frightened. "What if I hurt you? I didn't even notice I was digging my claws in, and—!"

"Pfft. Chill out, Char. It's just a little scratch. It's not like you're _trying_ to hurt me. What could happen?"

"I don't know!" Charla yelped. "What if I accidentally tear you apart, like we do with spirit gems? What if I absorb all your magic and you disappear? That's what gems do! What if—?"

"Char!" Nuala darted forward and grabbed Charla's face between her paws, almost pressing their snouts together. " _Relax_. You're working yourself up over nothing. Nothing is going to happen to me. You know why spirit gems disappear, right? It's because they're made of nothing _but_ magic; that's all they are! But I'm not a gem. I'm more than just magic. I'm flesh and blood and bone and brain"—she smirked— "and I doubt you can absorb all of that. Alright?"

Charla swallowed and nodded, but her heart was still racing and she almost didn't _want_ to try again. Not yet, anyway. She could hardly believe it. She hadn't actually expected this to _work_. She hadn't expected it to be _possible_.

Her head was reeling.

She pulled back again. "M-maybe it will be easier if my mana pool is more empty…"

Nuala shrugged. "Okay, fine, go shoot some fireballs and we'll try again."

Charla wilted. She'd been aiming for a 'let's try again later,' but this seemed like the best she was going to get. Nuala was all but vibrating with enthusiasm. There would be no putting her off now.

Still shaken, Charla led the way back out into the drizzle, flicked mud off her paws, and faced the clearing beyond the monastery. The darkness had lifted slightly, but the forest remained gloomy beneath the wet grey sky. Nuala hovered expectantly at her side.

"Go on, then," she said.

Charla sighed, steadied herself, and aimed into the rain. Her fireballs fizzled and sparked in the damp air, dissolving with pitiful _cracks_ over the centre of the clearing—but she'd hardly fired three of them before a quiet voice interrupted.

"What are you doing?"

Choking back a gasp, Charla flinched around and sat down on her rump, and smoke curled from the corners of her mouth. Meredy had come right up behind her without making a sound— _again_ —and now she stood at the edge of the monastery roots and stared at them in bemusement. Nuala exhaled loudly.

"Talk about sneaking up on someone!" she exclaimed—and even though she grinned, it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Where'd you come from, Merry?"

"I noticed you were gone, so I came looking for you," Meredy said slowly, eying Nuala with something akin to suspicion. From the tangle of her fur and the redness of her eyes, she certainly looked like she'd just dragged herself out of bed. "Why are you out here so early?"

Nuala shrugged. "Practicing."

"Practicing?" Meredy frowned.

Charla, catching Nuala's look, quickly added, "Y-yeah! For the lesson today. With Lance."

Nuala smirked at her. _Nice save._ Charla's face burned.

"You're practicing for that?" said Meredy, looking stunned—and her cheeks turned pink, as if she'd suddenly realised that maybe _she_ should have been doing that, too.

Charla managed a weak grin. "Just a little bit. It's probably not important."

Meredy shook her head. "Well, if you're done, you should come inside and get out of the rain. The pangolins left breakfast for us again."

"Are they still up?" said Nuala, her fur bristling.

Meredy raised her eyebrows. "No, they were preparing for their last sermons of the night when I came down. They'll probably go to sleep as soon as they're finished."

"Well, good." Nuala smacked her lips and leapt into the air with a sweep of damp feathers. " 'Cause I am _famished_. C'mon, Char."

"R-right." Catching her breath, Charla stumbled up onto the root-carved stairwell and followed, trying hard not to meet Meredy's eyes and pretending she hadn't noticed her suspicious frown. Nuala soared close to the side of her head.

"Tonight," she hissed in Charla's ear. "When they're asleep and the pangolins are busy. We'll try it again, okay? I know we can get this."

Then she buffeted Charla's horns with the tip of a wing and flew higher, crying, "Now let's go get us some grub!"—and she disappeared through the doors of the monastery in the blink of an eye.

Charla plodded after her, a silent Meredy at her heels. Her breath was still shaky, her blood still buzzing with the memory of the magic she'd felt just inches from her claws—the way it had called to her, the way she had yearned for it… And in some strange way, despite her nerves, she realised that she could hardly wait to try it again. Maybe, next time, she might even be able to touch it.

* * *

Lance didn't come down to join them until long after they'd eaten, and it was close to midday by the time he led Charla and Meredy out into the clearing at the foot of the monastery. It was still drizzling, enough to fill the air with a wet sort of haze, and Charla shivered as tiny droplets peppered her wings. She hardly listened as Lance grilled Meredy yet again.

"You're sure you're okay with Charla joining us?" he said, even though she'd told him 'yes' twice already. He seemed determined not to believe her.

"I'm sure, Lance," said Meredy, glancing sidelong at Charla and catching her eye. A nervous smile twitched at the corners of her mouth. "It's fine, really. I haven't changed my mind."

Lance eyed her sternly for a few moments, but he couldn't seem to find the lie he was looking for. Rolling his shoulders, he straightened up. "Fair enough. Let's see how we go today, then. If she distracts you too much, don't be afraid to speak up."

"I'm not _distracting_ ," Charla said, and thought she heard Nuala snicker behind her. She shot her a glare.

Meredy shuffled her paws in the fallen leaves. "I'm sure it'll be fine. Charla has helped me before."

They shared another short smile and Charla lifted her head higher, feeling a bit smug. After all, _she_ was the one who'd first started trying to help Meredy get her magic back after that naga incident.

"I'll just watch and cheer you on, if that's okay," Nuala called lazily, resting with her back to the underside of an arched root. It was the nearest shelter she could find from the rain, but her fur was still damp and muddy and she didn't look pleased.

"Don't heckle my students," Lance warned her, his mouth twitching, before he turned to Meredy. "Let's get you started first. Hang tight for a second, Charla."

Charla sat back without complaint, despite the impatience that tingled through her paws. Lance was going to teach her something! She was finally going to learn about magic from another dragon!

Swishing her tail, she looked back at Nuala and grinned. Nuala smirked.

"You were right. What we tried to do yesterday was too much, too fast," Lance said to Meredy. "You need to start using and controlling your magic again, but for now we should start with something smaller and easier. So, let's try this."

He curled his talons and lifted a paw, revealing a clawful of wet leaves. They must have fallen in the rain, because they were not yet all muddy and decaying like most of the leaf-litter. Meredy looked bemused as he held them out to her.

"Take them," he said. "This is your task for today. I want you to make the leaves move with nothing but your magic. Even if you can only shift a single one—I just want you to try. Go on. Take them."

Meredy hesitated, but, with a nervous glance at Charla, she reached out and accepted the leaves. Then she sat there and stared at them, her cheeks pink. Lance gave her a smile.

"Give it a try and I'll come see how you're going in a moment. Now, kid, let's have a little chat..."

He half-spread his wing and ushered her a short distance from Meredy, who watched them go with an almost pleading look on her face. Charla tried to give her an encouraging grin, but she wasn't sure if it worked. Nevertheless, it was with no small amount of excitement that she bounced alongside Lance and wondered what he might teach her first.

This morning had been so _boring_. After breakfast, they'd done nothing at all—and not just because of the rain, but because there wasn't really anything _to_ do. Nothing except watch Lance ponder over their tiny map and shake his head, until he'd finally grown sick of his failed attempts to plan a route and called them all outside.

Now he fixed her with a stern look and told her to stand up straight and look him in the eye, which she did with an eager little quiver. His jaw tightened.

"If I'm going to teach you anything, I want you to take it seriously," he said. "This isn't supposed to be fun and games. Is that clear? I'm not here to waste time."

Charla nodded quickly and forced herself to stand still. "I know. I'll be serious, I swear! I'll do whatever you tell me to."

His eyes softened a little. "What do you want me to teach you, then? Where do you want to start?"

"Er..." Charla faltered and thought for a moment. To be honest, she didn't really know. She'd never been taught at a dojo before, and everything she'd learned so far had been from books and sheer trial-and-error. How did young dragons usually learn? "I just thought, maybe...you could show me what you know and I could try to copy it? You must know heaps of stuff!"

Lance hummed thoughtfully and considered her, his brow furrowing. "True, but I don't know what level you're at. Let's try this, then. Why don't you go ahead and show me everything you know already? Just try not to burn the forest down."

 _That_ sounded like fun.

"Okay!" Charla bounced up and scampered a few steps away from Lance, so he wouldn't get in the way. He watched with an odd look on his face, like he was trying to be stern but couldn't stop the smile tugging at his mouth. She took a stance and looked back at him. "Where should I start?"

"Wherever you want. You might as well show me your basic firebreath to begin with."

So Charla nodded, inhaled through her nostrils, and stirred the well of fire deep in her belly. She needed something big and awe-striking—something that would impress Lance and show him just how good her firebreath was. For a few seconds, she let it rise up into her chest, let the tingle of magic warm her lungs until her breath became hot and smoke began to curl from between her teeth. Then she clenched her paws, braced herself, and let it loose.

Flames roared from her throat and spiralled in a blazing cone out of her jaws, and Charla heard a faint hissing as droplets of rain evaporated in the heat. She swung her head and let it unravel, let the fire sweep out in a great arc in front of her, felt the heat on her face. Then she let it go and closed her mouth, and the flames dissipated into bursts and tongues that sizzled in the hazy air.

She looked eagerly at Lance. He was nodding, but his impassive face wasn't exactly the impressed look she'd hoped for.

"Well, you've got the basic breath attack down," he said as she pouted. "That's good. What else do you know?"

"Umm... A few things..." Charla took a moment to compose herself, and then under Lance's watchful eye she performed a few more tricks she'd taught herself since learning to breathe fire.

She demonstrated to him again the floating flame orb that she'd picked up while in Warfang, and then showed off the length and accuracy of her fireballs. Wisely, she decided not to try a fury, if she even could. Instead, she demonstrated the 'comet dash'—a technique she'd picked up by accident while on the run with Jayce, though she'd never really used it much. The rush of speeding through the air like an arrow on fire was exhilarating, but it was all too easy to lose control. She could hardly see where she was going, and just stopping herself before she collided with something was an effort and a half.

Finally, she stopped and caught her breath, while Lance pondered with a claw to his chin. Behind him, Meredy seemed to be focusing very hard on the bundle of leaves in her paws, though Charla did catch her eyes darting up to see what they were doing.

"Well, there is a lot you still have left to learn," Lance finally said, "but you know most of the basic techniques that a kid your age should know. Considering you've never had a proper teacher, it's a wonder you're even this far along. We can improve a few things, though..."

"Like what?"

He clicked his claws together, his brow furrowed. "That comet dash of yours looks a bit unstable and probably needs some work, but I think we can start with something easier—and arguably more useful. Have you ever tried shooting more than one fireball at once?"

"Like, at the same time?" Charla frowned. "Not really... I kind of did when I got overloaded with magic the other day, but I don't really know how I did that. It just sorta happened."

Lance nodded. "Then we'll start with that."

He paced over to her, and something in his voice shifted. Reminded suddenly of Silverback, and of the many lessons she'd sat through in his gloomy study, Charla stood still and listened.

"Being able to fire a wide-spread spray of missiles is a staple for earth dragon combat. A single concentrated earth blast can devastate a single enemy, but several at once can defend you when you're surrounded. If you're able to target more than one enemy with a single attack, you'll be able to hold your own even when severely outnumbered. These missiles won't be as concentrated or as powerful as a single blast of magic, but it's an invaluable technique in defensive combat."

"Try to think of it like you're splitting your fireball into several pieces right as it leaves your mouth. Focus on where you want them to go. It's impossible to be completely accurate with this technique—unless you've got the elemental capabilities of a Guardian—but you should at least be able to guide them loosely." He gave her a wry smile. "So, want to try it?"

"Yeah!" Charla grinned and jumped into an offensive stance, half-spreading her wings.

Lance looked pleased. "Good kid. How about you try that out while I check on Meredy? Tell me if you have trouble. I'd demonstrate it for you, but... Well, I'm sure you get it."

"It's okay; I can do it!"

Lance gave her another smile and plodded back over to Meredy. Charla watched them for a moment. As he approached, Meredy seemed to fumble, and some of her leaves drifted to the ground.

"How are you managing?" he asked, and Meredy didn't meet his eyes.

"I can't do it," she sighed, her shoulders falling. "I can feel my magic is there, but I just can't– There's this wall there, and I just can't _do_ anything. I'm sorry..."

"Don't apologise to me. All I want is for you to keep trying. This wall you feel—it isn't really there. It's all in your head, and you need to let it go. _Trust_ yourself. Let the magic come."

"But..."

"Look." Lance reached out and plucked a single leaf from the bundle in her paws, then told her to drop the rest. She did so without question and stared up at him with nervous eyes. He lifted the leaf between two claws and held it in front of her. "This is all I want you to focus on. Just this leaf. All I want you to do is make it flutter. Picture a breeze drifting past—pretend this is a leaf on the end of a branch. Make it shiver."

He motioned for her to take it. "Try it."

Meredy hesitated but took the leaf between her claws, staring at it like it was about to come to life and bite her. She curled her tail around herself.

"Focus on it, and close your eyes," Lance said. "Feel the magic inside of you, and let it flow. Remember that you control it and it can't do anything without you. Breathe with it."

Meredy did as he said, inhaling deeply and exhaling a long, slow sigh.

Losing interest, Charla turned away. She needed to practise, too. Fire stirred in her belly and she let it curdle, thinking over what Lance had told her.

"Split it into pieces..." she mumbled under her breath.

Then she drew her head back, let the flames condense at the back of her throat, and fired. A single fireball roared out of her mouth and exploded in the air, much closer than she had intended. Startled, she jumped back and heard Meredy utter a strangled gasp.

"Sorry!" Charla yelped, but Lance just gave her a warning look and told Meredy to focus again. Grimacing, she moved a little further away from them.

Her next fireball didn't split, either, but at least it didn't almost explode in her face. She might have put a little too much force in, because it whistled quite a ways towards the treeline before sparking out with a hissing _crack_. Okay... That wasn't working.

"Lame!" Nuala called out. "What sort of fireball was that? Try harder, Char!"

Charla turned around and stuck her tongue out, but Nuala just grinned. Shaking her head, she turned back and tried again. Her next few attempts were no more successful, and one of them resulted in little more than an unusually explosive spray of fire that left ash on her scales. As she pawed it off, Nuala came fluttering over to join her, alighting on Charla's back with a smirk.

"Did you mean to do that?"

Charla pouted. "It's not _working_. Lance! How do you do it?"

He sighed and stood up, murmuring something to Meredy as he turned away from her. Plodding over to Charla, he asked, "What are you trying to do?"

"Split it into pieces." Charla scowled. "Like you _said_ to."

"Then, if it's not working, reduce the amount. Try just splitting your fireball in two for now. And it that doesn't work, try firing them one after another—see how quickly you can do that, and try to shorten the time between them until you're almost firing them at the same time. Alright?"

Charla rubbed her foreleg sheepishly, feeling her head droop forward as Nuala leaned lazily against the back of her neck. "Yeah, okay. I'll try."

Lance gave her a smile. "Don't get discouraged. It takes more than a few tries to pick up a new technique—and I'm not exactly the best teacher for it. Shame we can't conjure up the Fire Guardian for you. You'd learn quickly then."

He patted her shoulder, told Nuala not to distract her, and then returned to Meredy. As soon as he was gone, Charla huffed and turned away, feeling Nuala sway and shift with her movements. She glanced back at the vulpala, and their eyes met.

"Are you bored?" Charla asked.

Nuala shrugged. "A little. Are you gonna entertain me? Go on, give it a shot."

Rolling her eyes, Charla reached for her flames and shot another fireball in a blazing arc towards the sky. It didn't split like she wanted it to, so she gathered her energy and shot another after it, as quickly as she could manage. They would have collided in the air if the first hadn't already fizzled out. Scowling, she tried again.

She felt Nuala dig her claws into the gaps between her scales as her body rocked with fireball after fireball, until finally she managed to fire two in such quick succession that they crashed into one another and exploded magnificently far above the clearing. Embers rained down on them and Charla turned her head, grinning. Nuala smirked.

"Not bad. You're getting there." She leaned forward. "How's your mana levels?"

"Uh... A little down. I haven't used much yet. Why?"

"Just thinking..."

For a few seconds, Charla hesitated. She knew what was on Nuala's mind. "Um... Did you want to...?"

"Not now." Nuala jerked her head towards Lance and Meredy. "Not in front of those two. Tonight, like I said. Maybe we can find somewhere inside where the pangolins won't bother us..."

Charla nodded quickly. Nuala patted the back of her neck.

"Try that fireball thing again. I think you could get it this time."

"Right..."

Steeling herself, Charla turned her head and stirred her fire. One more try—this was the time, surely. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lance pacing around Meredy, who sat rigid and utterly focused, her mane drifting in the slightest breeze. Licking her lips, Charla braced her shoulders and felt Nuala tighten her grip.

 _Two fireballs._

 _Split it in half._

She jerked her head up and fired. Two fireballs—not one, but _two_ —blazed from her jaws and hissed through the drizzling rain, spiralling around one another as they soared towards the treeline. They never reached it, exploding one after the other with an echoing thunderous _crack_ like splintering rock. Charla jumped and grinned, elation blazing through her.

"I did it! Lance, I—!"

And the world flipped upside down.

A furious howling of wind roared out of nowhere, blasting through the forest with the force of a battering ram; Charla had no time to brace herself, and nothing to hold onto. With a clipped yelp, she was thrown off her feet and slammed against the ground, and all air rushed from her lungs. She felt Nuala's claws tear away from her scales—heard her shriek of fear and shock—and she flailed desperately, trying to grab something. Debris whipped around her limbs; something sharp ripped into the soft scales of her cheek and she cried out in breathless pain. The wind screamed inside her ears.

Was that Lance's guttural shout in the distance?

She had no time to think—no time to question what was going on, to wonder if this was the end of the world. Because just as panic burst inside her chest, the howling stopped. The wind died. Limp as a sack of rocks, Charla slumped on the muddy ground.

Torn leaves fluttered around her prone form, but for several long moments, she didn't move. Her chest was aching, her face stinging. She breathed in and out slowly, calming her blazing lungs, until the pain began to fade. Only then, gulping, did she raise her head.

The first thing she saw was Lance, already on his feet and stumbling towards the pale yellow bundle slumped and shuddering in the middle of the clearing.

Meredy. _Of course..._

Meredy's paws were clamped firmly over her eyes and her whole body was shaking with soundless convulsions, as if wracked with unheard sobs. Charla forced herself to get up, ignoring her trembling limbs, and automatically swiped a paw across her stinging cheek. It came away wet, red scales smeared with blood, but she didn't stop to worry about that. She spun around, heart in her throat, seeking a glimpse of white amongst the debris. _There_.

Before Charla could even stagger over to her, Nuala was on her feet. Her fur was a mess and there were leaves and twigs stuck in her wings—but she looked more startled than hurt. Meeting Charla's eyes for a split second, she launched herself into the air and darted towards Meredy. Charla swayed on the spot and turned to follow her.

Lance was already there. He leaned over the trembling sky serpent, who seemed to be refusing to so much as remove her paws from her face. As Charla moved closer, she heard his voice.

"You're okay, Meredy," he said, resting his paw on her shoulder. "We're all okay. It was an accident—no one got hurt. Up you get."

But Meredy just shook harder, her muffled voice bubbling from between her paws. "I-I can't– I c-can't control it! I can't do it, I can't _do_ it– I d-didn't _mean_ to—!"

"I know you didn't. But you _were_ controlling it; I saw it. You just got startled. Don't let this frighten you and stop you from trying again. You need to learn how to stop this from happening."

"How _can_ I?" Meredy lifted her head at last, and though her eyes were dry, her face was white with fear. "I can't control it at all! I shouldn't even be _trying_ to get my magic back like this! All I'm going to do is hurt someone! I can't _do_ this—I don't want to hurt anyone!"

"And that's exactly why you need to do this!" Lance insisted, even as she wrenched herself away from his reaching paw. "It's going to break out of you whether you try to use it or not. If you don't learn to control it, you _will_ hurt someone. That's why we're doing this—!"

"Then maybe it's not working!" Meredy choked and swallowed, shrinking away from him. "Maybe I'm just not good enough to control magic like this. I-I've already... I'm j-just going to..."

"You need to let me help you. _Trust_ yourself."

"I can't!"

"Alright, big guy, back it off." Nuala soared in and pushed his head aside, her face grim. "Let me handle this. You go make sure Char's alright."

He scowled as if he wanted to argue, but seemed to think better of it. As Nuala flew over to embrace Meredy, who mumbled something into her fur, Lance turned away and looked for Charla. Their eyes met and he plodded over, stirring fallen leaves around his paws. Charla stood and waited for him to reach her.

Her heart was still pounding, and the warm wetness on her cheek felt like it was dripping down to the base of her jaw, but she paid it no attention. It seemed incredible, but now that the leaves had settled, the clearing looked like it had hardly been damaged at all. The monastery trees still loomed over them, as solid and immovable as always, unswayed by the violent gale. Charla had half expected to see pangolins hanging out of their windows to see what had happened, but it seemed like they hadn't even been disturbed from their rest. The windows were dark and empty. Everything was fine.

"You're bleeding," said Lance as he stopped beside her. He reached for her chin, turning her face so he could see her injured cheek better. "You must have been clipped by a twig or something."

"Is it bad?" Charla asked. She felt unsteady, as if the wind was still trying to knock her over.

Lance dropped his paw. "It's just a cut—doesn't look too deep. Everything else okay?"

"Yeah..." She glanced around him, but Meredy and Nuala were huddled so closely together that it was impossible to see their faces or hear what they were saying. "Is Meredy...?"

"She's frightened. She lost control pretty badly there." He sighed. "She'll be okay. It's only a small setback—at least, it _should_ be, as long as she doesn't let this ruin what little confidence she's built up. She was making progress today. She just got startled and lost it..."

He grimaced and raised a paw to his face, as if trying to rub away a headache forming between his eyes. "This is exactly what I was afraid of. There's all of this magic inside her and it wants to come out, but she's not letting it. And as soon as something goes wrong, as soon as something spooks her, _this_ happens. If she can't get a handle on it, she could seriously hurt any of us." His brow furrowed and he let his paw fall. "Come on, let's get inside and get that cut cleaned up. You're bleeding everywhere."

Charla quickly pawed away the blood that was dripping from her jaw, but she hesitated to follow Lance back into the monastery. Glancing one more time towards the others, she managed to catch Nuala's eye. The vulpala flicked her head, as if telling her to leave, and Charla plodded away with a guilty hollow in her stomach.

Lance led her silently through the entranceway and didn't stop when they got to the Great Hall. Charla followed without question, but it wasn't until several minutes later that she realised he was taking her to the infirmary. It was a big empty room, filled with rows of thick woven mats, and Lance sat her down on one and told her to stay put while he rummaged through the cupboards. Charla pouted and dug her claws into a coarsely woven pillow, which felt like it was full of moss and leaves.

He came back moments later, awkwardly carrying a bowl with the edge between his teeth. When he set it down, Charla saw that it, too, was full of leaves and moss.

"What are—?" she started, but Lance shushed her and tilted her head to see her cheek better. She scowled, but kept her mouth closed.

He was silent as he mopped up her blood with wads of moss, holding her by the chin to stop her from flinching away. Charla grimaced and pulled faces at him, but he ignored her.

"Unlucky," he said after a moment, removing the moss to get a better look. "If it hadn't caught you on the face, it probably would have just bounced off. Looks like it hit from a bad angle, tore a scale off… That's why it bled so much. Here, hold this until it stops."

He pressed a soft leaf to her cheek, and she held it there reluctantly as he disposed of the moss and put the bowl away. As he came back, Charla stared long and hard at him. His eyes were dark, his face set. She knew her little cut hadn't been _that_ bad. She was starting to think that he'd only brought her here to get away from the others—or, more specifically, away from Meredy.

He sighed deeply as he sat down beside her. Charla couldn't help herself.

"Are you angry?" she blurted out. "Are you mad with Meredy? It was a mistake, so…"

"I'm not angry with anyone except myself," Lance grunted. "Myself, and this whole damn situation…"

"But—"

"She shouldn't be with us!" he exclaimed suddenly, and Charla winced. "This mess that we've dragged her into—she's not made for this kind of thing, and she's handling it worse than any of us. And now she's stuck with us and these damn magic lessons aren't going anything like I hoped they would. She's not stable and it's not safe for any of us."

"It was just an accident—"

"She could have killed someone!" he snapped. "She could have brought down a tree on top of us or skewered someone with a branch or thrown one of you into a trunk and crushed your skull! We're lucky it happened somewhere open or we all could have ended up with broken bones."

He pressed the heel of his paw into his forehead, audibly gritting his teeth. "I don't know what to do. This can't keep happening, but if I don't help her learn to control it, then it _will_. She's too volatile, and it's like she's just getting worse… All it took this time was a loud noise and she completely lost it."

His paw fell. Charla stared anxiously at him. It was no wonder he hadn't wanted to say this in front of Meredy.

"I know she hasn't been sleeping well and she's as thin as a twig, but I didn't think she was this bad," Lance muttered. "I wish we'd never let her come with us. She should be in Mistral, somewhere safe and stable where she could get help from her own kind, not out slogging it with us… She's not like you and me, kid. She's suffering."

"What are we supposed to do?" Charla shot back, her cheeks burning. _She_ was the one who'd let Meredy come along. _She_ was the reason Meredy was here. "We can't just leave her behind!"

"We could," muttered Lance. "Leave her with the Sanghali…" Another sigh. He shook his head. "But you're right, we can't dump the responsibility on them. She's stuck with us now, like it or not. She's not going to turn around and head back to Mistral _now_. It's too far."

Charla twisted her tail, then pulled the leaf away from her face and stared at the bright splotches of blood stark on its surface. _Her_ blood. Her side twinged suddenly, as if that scar beneath the strap of her satchel wanted to remind her of a worse wound—of the blood that had once pulsed sticky and hot over her scales. She flinched and crumpled the leaf between her claws.

"I'm sorry, kid," Lance mumbled.

Charla looked at him. "What for?"

He met her eyes evenly, though his were coloured with regret. "I don't think I can teach you with Meredy. She needs my full attention if I'm going to help her control this, and she's too easily startled. Having you shooting fireballs right next door is only going to make something like this happen again. It's not safe."

Charla's heart sank. She'd been afraid of that. "It's my fault this happened, isn't it?"

"Of course not, kid." He sounded pained. "You didn't know this would happen. But I knew it was a bad idea. I shouldn't have agreed to it in the first place."

Charla hesitated. "Why did you, then?"

To no surprise of hers, Lance stiffened and his jaw tensed—and as the silence stretched out between them, Charla deflated a little. It wasn't like she'd _expected_ an answer…

But then, out of nowhere, as if someone had flipped a switch in his brain, he blurted out, "It just reminded me of something my father used to do, when I was young. That's all."

Charla stared at him in amazement. Without looking at her, as if he didn't dare to, he surged on.

"He was always too busy with Selik to make time for me, especially after the raid. But I used to beg to join in on their training all the time, over and over again—and even if Selik said it was fine, my father never agreed. He said I didn't need any more training and that he was too busy and that I'd make Selik _feel bad_ "—his face was twisting, the lips curling over his fangs—"and he never even _tried_ to make time for me. He said he was proud of me, that I didn't need his help, but all I wanted was for him to _look at me_. I just wanted to feel like _I_ was his son, too…"

He broke off, his face falling back into that impassive stone mask, and turned his eyes away from her. "I don't know why I'm telling you this. You just reminded me of that—of _me_ —and I felt like I was turning into _him_. That's the last thing I want..."

Charla swallowed, and for a long moment she said nothing. There was a kind of warm blaze spluttering in her chest, and as she sat there in that silent empty room with only Lance beside her, she felt like they'd gone back in time. Back to the weeks after they'd first met, when he'd started to open up to her, when she'd started to peel back his stone mask piece-by-piece until he'd felt more like a friend than a mysterious bodyguard. She felt like they were back in Warfang again—in those early sunlit days when she'd almost forgotten about the loss of Jayce, when Chelcie had danced through her life, and Lance had begun to feel almost like _family_.

And she felt, as another piece of his mask fell away before her eyes, that the rift she'd clawed between them back then had finally started to close.

"I can still teach you," Lance blurted out, before she could think to say anything. "While we're here, we've got time. I can give you a few techniques and you can work on them on your own, while I'm busy with Meredy. I won't have time to help you when we get moving again, especially if Meredy keeps struggling like this, but…"

"It's okay."

He fell silent and looked at her, his eyebrows raised. Charla smiled.

"I don't think you're turning into your father," she said. "Otherwise you wouldn't say all this stuff. I won't be mad if you have to spend all your time with Meredy. I know she needs your help, a lot more than I do. I won't be upset."

His eyes softened. "Kid…"

She shook her head and looked away, warmth rushing into her cheeks. There were words on her tongue and she _wanted_ to say them—but, for a heartbeat, they lodged themselves in her throat and refused to come out. Then she looked up at Lance, saw the scarred face and the iron-grey eyes, almost as familiar now as the warm hazelnut gaze of a certain ape, and her heart lifted.

"You're my big brother," she said. "You _chose_ to be my big brother. Remember? In Warfang? And you said you'd stay with me no matter what, so I'm pretty sure I already know you care about me. That's what I think."

Lance stared at her with startled eyes, his paw half-raised off the ground—but before Charla could start to regret her words, his lips twitched and his eyes seemed to glisten. Then he looked away, looped a wing around her shoulders, and pulled her against him.

Charla leaned into his ribs and rested her head beneath his wing-joint, nestling into the warmth of his scales—and for a moment she let herself feel safe, unharried, protected from the anxious whisperings of a future grown progressively more uncertain. Because Lance was with her. And as long as he was there to shelter her, she felt like there was nothing she needed to worry about.

They'd work it out. They always did.


	16. By Day, By Night

**Chapter 16**

 **By Day, By Night**

"And you're sure they won't bother us in this place?"

"Dunno, maybe. I didn't see anyone last time I was there. But it's a bit…weird… You'll see when we get there."

"If you say so, Char."

It was the night after Meredy's little incident, and Charla and Nuala were sneaking through the monastery. They were sneaking because Nuala was adamant that the pangolins must not know they were there—and Charla didn't complain because there was something exciting about creeping in the shadows, listening for sounds around the corner, and waiting with bated breath for unsuspecting monks to pass by.

She didn't know how late it was—sometime between midnight and sunrise—but she wasn't tired. She'd napped a bit earlier, when she, Lance and Meredy had sat in on one of the monks' late-night sermons, which had turned out to be just boring enough to make her doze off. That was how they'd ended up in bed so late, and why she and Nuala had been forced to wait until the small hours of the night to escape. But they were almost there now, and they would have plenty of time before anyone came looking for them.

The tree-branch bridge creaked as they scampered across it in the darkness, and Charla skidded to a halt when they reached the doorway on the other side. The corridors beyond, which had looked so dark in the daytime, seemed to glow with threads of golden light. Charla hesitated and listened. No sound came from within.

"Come on," she whispered to Nuala, and they slipped over the threshold.

"What is all this?" Nuala muttered as they padded down the corridor, passing streams of golden sap and frills of glowing fungi. Lizards scuttled by, their little feet making tiny pattering sounds on the walls.

"I don't know. I found this place when I was looking around the other morning. I thought it was cool. It feels...secret."

"Yeah... I guess that's one way to put it." Nuala eyed the alcoves in the walls as they passed, her eyes lingering on each empty mat. "Doesn't seem like the pangolins come here often."

Charla nodded. They crept a bit further in, listening for footsteps and voices—and just as she was starting to think they were in the clear, Nuala hissed at her. She froze. Holding her breath, she followed Nuala's pointing wing to the lone pangolin that sat in the shallow hollow of the alcove directly opposite them. Its eyes were closed, its enormous claws resting limply in its lap. For a moment, Charla wasn't even sure it was breathing.

Nuala jerked her head, her eyes glowing in the eerie light. Charla twisted her tail in a knot, lowered until her belly was almost touching the ground, and slunk forward. Her paws fell almost soundlessly, but even the whisper of her shaky breaths sounded to her ears like the howl of a gale. She forced herself to keep moving. The pangolin's eyes did not open.

And then they were past, the alcove was well behind them, and Nuala let out a breath of relief. Charla sighed.

"Nice scare," Nuala muttered. "They must meditate here or something. At least they're too busy seeing visions to notice what's right in front of their noses… C'mon, let's go further. I don't want anyone to hear us."

Charla, who felt like her voice had lodged in her throat, just nodded. They crept on into more twisting corridors, until the pangolin was far behind them and they were alone except for the rare lizard scuttling over the walls. These alcoves were empty.

"What do you think?" Charla asked as they stopped before one.

Nuala shrugged. "It'll do. Better than being out in the rain."

She padded into the alcove, the glow of sap turning her fur milky yellow, and Charla followed. There was barely enough room for them both to sit on the mat, but at least she could half-spread her wings without touching the walls. She wriggled around and made herself comfortable.

Nuala was running her paw over one crystalline droplet of sap, her ears swivelling thoughtfully. As Charla watched, she tapped her claws across its surface, twisted her paw, and pried it off the wall. It popped free with hardly a sound. Charla jumped.

"Weird," said Nuala, rolling it in her paw. "How does it glow like that? It doesn't feel like normal tree sap."

"I thought it felt like a spirit gem," Charla admitted, and Nuala cocked an eyebrow.

"You did, huh? Well…"

She hefted the glassy droplet and tossed it across the space between them. Stifling a gasp, Charla caught it with a fumbling of paws and juggled it awkwardly. It felt just as warm as she remembered. She looked at Nuala.

"Go on, then," the vulpala said with an air of impatience. "Try to absorb it. I wanna see."

"Really?" Charla hesitated, turning the droplet over in her claws. It certainly felt as magically tempting as a spirit gem, but she had no idea what it _was_. What if it wasn't safe?

"C'mon, what's the problem? You'll try to absorb magic from me but not from some harmless tree sap? Get your head on, Char. This is just a taste of what's to come. _Try_ it."

Charla felt her cheeks warm, but she knew Nuala was right. This was probably a hundred times less weird than trying to take magic from another animal. If she couldn't do this, what hope did she have of getting Nuala's idea to work?

She sank her claws into the sap. It didn't shatter. Instead, as the tips of her talons sank into its hard surface, that glassy shell seemed to melt away and it turned to goo in her paw. The glow expanded, brightened, until she had to close her eyes; something thick and sticky oozed into the cracks between her scales. Warmth flooded her paw and leg and flowed into her chest, soft and caressing like the waters of the heated Warfang baths. Then the stickiness faded, and the glow with it.

Blinking, Charla looked at her paw. The sap was gone. All that remained was a faint golden sheen over her scales, which shimmered with a strange luster when she moved her leg. And deep in her belly, a new soft magic, like water from a hot spring, like a summer breeze between the trees, sat and settled in spaces that had before been empty. Its mana was hers.

"So?" said Nuala. "Did it work?"

"Y-yeah," Charla stammered. "It feels a bit different from spirit gems, but it's definitely magic. My mana pool isn't as empty anymore."

She could hardly believe it herself. Nuala grinned, and Charla found herself grinning back. She'd done it—she'd absorbed magic from something else.

Now for the bigger test.

"You're still a bit empty, right?" Nuala asked, and Charla nodded. "Good. Let's see if we can't fix that…"

There was an awkward silence as they shuffled around and tried to mimic what they'd done that morning, but soon enough Charla's paw was buried in Nuala's chest-fur and she sat there feeling silly and stupid. She tried to remember what she had felt last time—the mana just under the surface—but for a long moment nothing happened. All she felt was warm skin, and fur on her scales.

Then Nuala started to glow. Charla held her breath. This was how it had happened last time—as if Nuala needed to stir the river of her magic before Charla could feel it too. And sure enough, like a wellspring bubbling up from the earth, she felt it.

Energy. Mana. It whispered and flowed just below her clawtips, and it came no closer. She pressed her paw to Nuala's chest, seeking it, digging for it, and greed rose like a hot tide in her chest, in her throat.

She _wanted_ it. She had to _get_ it.

The tips of her claws sank into flesh and the magic seemed to waver, to draw closer. She hardly heard Nuala's hiss of pain, and even her voice sounded faint and far away, as if beyond a thick fog.

"Claws, Char! Watch the _claws._ "

Charla paid her no heed. The blood was pulsing in her ears, deafening her, blinding her to everything except the magic just beyond her reach. She dug deeper, pressing her claws in, and Nuala cried out—a distant faded cry that lanced through Charla's head. Something broke inside her and she flinched back, but not before Nuala had caught her paw in a piercing grip. Her thin sharp claws sank into the soft scales between Charla's toes, drawing blood—Charla tried to pull back, startled by the pain.

And that was when it happened.

Whether or not it was because of the way they connected—with Nuala's blood on her claws, and hers on Nuala's—something made the barrier break. The walls fell down, the water rose, the wellspring overflowed—and a great tide of mana rushed into the empty spaces inside Charla. She cried out, but no sound left her lips; Nuala's eyes went wide, still glowing with pale blue light. The breath froze in Charla's lungs.

This was not the blazing heat of spirit gems, nor the sticky warmth of the crystal sap. This was _freezing_. The mana whipped through her veins with a harsh dry chill, as the wind whips over the frozen winter plains, as a blade of cold steel drives into warm flesh. Her inner fires fled before it, like shadows from a bright light.

She saw herself reflected in Nuala's eyes—her own eyes, once green, now burned an icy blue—and realized abruptly that she was staring into her own face. She realized, too, that she was no longer alone inside her head, that Nuala was there too—but she _was_ Nuala, and Nuala's thoughts were hers, and she felt the chill of fear and wonder as if they were her own. Images, if they could be called that, flashed before her mind's eye—places she had never been, faces she had never seen—and they felt as familiar to her as her own memories.

And this, all of this, happened in the space of a few seconds—until Charla heard Nuala's voice crying her name, though her mouth never moved, and a thrill of panic forced her to pull away.

They wrenched apart. The flow of mana stopped, but the cold did not leave with it. Gasping like a half-drowned creature, Charla slumped against the wall of the alcove, curling herself into a ball; the chill of strange mana twisted and swirled inside of her. Nuala was gasping too, and it was a moment before Charla realized she was speaking, chanting profanities under her breath.

"Heck!" she finally exclaimed aloud, staggering to her feet. "That was _nuts_! What the _heck_! You okay, Char? Charla? Speak to me, Char. I didn't kill you, did I?"

There was concern behind her laughter; Charla forced herself to uncurl and lift her head, even though the world was spinning. Her eyes focused on Nuala and she held them there, staring at the blood still wet on the blue fur of her chest. Guilt pulsed through her. She unstuck her tongue.

"I'm okay," she mumbled, her words slightly slurred. "I hurt you…"

As if she hadn't realised yet, Nuala looked down at her chest and tried to rub the blood away. It stained and clotted in her fur, but at least there wasn't a lot of it. She was grinning lopsidedly as she met Charla's eyes. "S'all good, Char. I think you got a little carried away there, is all. But how was _that_? That was so weird! It was like we _connected_ , and I felt the mana rushing through me and into you—and I felt like _I_ was inside you, too! Like I _was_ you. And like I could hear your thoughts… Did you feel it too?"

Charla swallowed. The cold was still inside her and she couldn't stop shivering, but at least her head was clearing now—not that she understood anything about what had happened. She nodded slowly. "I felt like…I wasn't alone inside my head. Like…you were there too."

She licked her fangs and went silent, realising how crazy that sounded. But Nuala's face was glowing; Charla had never seen her so excited.

"This is nuts," she said again, grinning breathlessly. "What about the mana, though? Your mana pool—how is it?"

Right… That was why they'd done this in the first place. Charla had almost forgotten. But as she reached inside for her magic, as the chill of strange mana became slowly warmed by her inner flames, she realized with a start that the emptiness was gone. After all the mana she'd used earlier, practicing her fireballs, she'd been running on empty. But now…

"It's full," she heard herself say, and her voice was coloured with wonder, as if she couldn't believe her own words. "My mana pool is full."

Nuala's eyes shone like stars. "It _worked_. Charla, it worked! You absorbed mana from me! My idea worked! Do you know what this means?"

She leapt into the air and twirled around Charla's head, brushing the walls with the tips of her feathers, then came down and clasped Charla's paws between her own. Her grin was sharp and fierce.

"It means we're unstoppable," she said. "It means nothing, not even Gaul, will be able to stand in our way. It means we can do _anything_."

* * *

It was almost dawn by the time they returned to their room, forced as they were to take a detour by the bathing chamber to wash the blood from Nuala's fur. Nuala, in spite of her excitement, slept almost instantly—but Charla tossed and turned for ages, still buzzing with the high of fresh magic, which curdled cold in her belly for hours afterwards.

She did not remember falling asleep, but when she awoke the sun was shining sharp through the window and the room was almost empty. Meredy and Nuala were gone, and Lance sat quietly in a shaft of green-tinged light, their tiny map flattened between his paws.

He looked up as she stirred and stretched. "I see you've finally decided to catch up on the sleep you've missed. About time. Usually you're running around at ridiculous hours of the morning. I thought you'd crash eventually."

Charla grunted and pawed the sleep from her eyes. He didn't need to know she'd been up most of the night. How Nuala was not still snoring beside her, she had no idea.

"Where're the others?" she mumbled around a yawn. She felt refreshed, and the chill of Nuala's mana had disappeared completely, leaving her mana pool feeling pleasantly warm and full. She hoped Nuala didn't feel any the worse for being used as a living breathing spirit gem. At least she'd seemed fine last night.

"Meredy was already gone when I woke up, and the fox went down a little while ago," said Lance, and his voice gave nothing away. "We can go join them if you're hungry. I'm not making any progress here."

Charla got to her feet and went to join him, tilting her head. "What are you doing?"

He drummed his claws on the map. "Trying to make a plan, of course. Not that there are any good options open to us… Every choice is a bad one."

Then he glared at the map as if it was the problem, and Charla asked, "What are the choices?"

"Not this way, that's for sure." He moved his claw over the map, tracing an invisible path in a straight line from Lake Qilin to the Well of Souls. "That takes us right into the Mesa Land and we'd never get through. We need to come around the coast, but that leaves us two options and neither are good. We could cut straight through the marshland here, cross the Serpens River, and head for the harbour on the other side of Avalar—but it would be crawling with apes, and I doubt we'd have better luck there than going through the Mesa Land. Otherwise…"

He shifted his claw. "We follow the Serpens River all the way to the western coast, and then head down south from there. I doubt there'll be as much of an ape presence on the western sea as there is down south—but the river is the problem. I've said it before; that's a huge trade route for the Dark Army. There'll be apes sailing to and fro almost constantly. We can't just waltz along it. But I don't know what else to _do_."

He shook his head as though in defeat, and Charla leered at the map for a moment.

"What if we went this way instead?" she asked, pointing beyond the forest, towards the Jordian Grasslands in the west. One fork of the river there—the Shimmerscale—wound off towards the ocean, leading would-be travellers to the northern edge of the western coast. The other trailed through the forest and drained into Lake Qilin.

Lance shook his head at once. "I wouldn't trust the Jordian Grasslands, and definitely not the Shimmerscale. That's been ape territory for as long as anyone in Jordguard can remember, even before the reemergence of the Dark Army. The biggest ape settlement in the Dragon Realms sits right here, at the edge of the river…" He trailed off, frowning. "Then again, who knows how many apes are still there now. Hundreds, maybe even thousands, of them would have left to join the army. I wonder…"

His claws rapped the map again, his eyes scanning it slowly, until finally he shrugged and looked up. "It's a possibility. I didn't even think of it before; they drummed the warnings about the grasslands and Shimmerscale into us back in Jordguard, and I guess they stuck with me. I'll think about it, maybe ask the monks… They might know something."

With a yawn and a stretch, Lance clambered to his feet. "In the meantime, we ought to get moving. There's a lot we need to sort out before we head out again, and not a lot of time to do it in. I doubt you want to hang around here for more than a week."

A nervous thrill raced down Charla's spine. "No! We can only stay for a few days—you said!"

The thought of the Night of Eternal Darkness reared its ugly head again, and she cringed but said nothing. There was no point telling him. It would only make things worse. But they'd already been here two days and three nights now, and she didn't get the feeling that they were any closer to leaving.

She hoped this wouldn't be like Earthsoul all over again.

"I know, I know," Lance said quickly. "A week at most, alright? I'm just thinking out loud. I want to solidify the plan a bit before we head out, and I've still got to settle things with Meredy and try to get her on the right track, and you and I have that training to do, of course…" He glanced at her with a strange contemplative look. "I was thinking it might be a good idea to teach you some claw-to-claw techniques as well, no elements involved."

Charla perked up. "Really? Why?"

"Because it's important. I've seen how you fight and you rely far too much on your magic—just like I did at your age. It's not an unlimited resource, and nor is it a balanced fighting style, as my brother once showed me… You should be able to defend yourself _and_ strike back without it."

Charla twisted her tail and stayed quiet. Nuala might have something to say about that—and if her plan worked as it had last night, Charla might not ever need to worry about running dry of mana again. But she couldn't tell Lance about _that_. Of that, Nuala had been very clear.

But now Lance was muttering to himself, as if he'd forgotten she was there, and he didn't seem to notice her lack of response. "It would be good for Meredy too, of course—maybe even moreso, if she keeps throwing up these walls against her magic. We'll be heading into dangerous territory soon and she needs to know how to defend herself. If I can't get her mana on the right track, claws will be her only weapon…"

Charla stared at him. He blinked and shook his head.

"The point is, all of us need to be prepared for what happens next. Things are only going to get dicier from here. But we won't get anything done standing around here and _talking_ about it. It's almost midday already; we're wasting daylight. Let's get some food into us and get started."

He turned to the curtained doorway and Charla scampered to his side.

"Do you think it'll be bugs again?" she whined, and he gave her a wry smile.

"Pangolins don't eat anything else."

Grimacing, Charla ducked around the corner and followed him into the corridor, leaving the map and her anxieties behind.

Nuala and Meredy weren't in the Great Hall when they came down, so Lance and Charla took their breakfast alone, scarfing down bowls of leftover bugs. Charla was starting to tolerate them more now, but only because they filled her growling belly. She wouldn't be sad to leave them behind.

It was only when they plodded out into the entrance hall, planning to use what little was left of the morning for training, that they found one of their missing friends. Nuala was curled up on the dais between the carven hooves of the Qilin statue, her white fur glowing in a patch of sunlight. She wasn't moving at all. Charla felt a sting of panic.

Ignoring Lance, she scampered over and prodded Nuala's warm shoulder, trying not to seem too worried. To her relief, Nuala stirred and lifted her head, revealing her sharp teeth in a wide-mouthed yawn.

"Oh, hey," she said, smacking her jaws, her eyes still bleary from sleep. "You just get up? What's the time?"

"Almost the middle of the day," said Charla. "What're you doing?"

"Dozing. Merry got up early so I came down to keep her company. Thought I'd catch up on some sleep here…"

"Where is she?" asked Lance, plodding over to them.

Nuala shrugged. "Said she was going to the library. Guess she's probably still there."

Lance grunted. "If you see her, tell her to come find me. We have some things to sort out. Meanwhile, you and I should get to work, kid. C'mon."

He beckoned with a jerk of his head and plodded towards the doors, but Charla didn't follow at first. She lowered her voice and hissed to Nuala, "Are you okay?"

"Huh?" Nuala blinked owlishly, but her eyes seemed clear now and there was no lingering exhaustion on her face. "Oh, the absorbing thing. Nah, Char, I'm all good. Don't feel any different, actually. Don't think it did anything to me at all."

"Oh… Good."

Nuala smirked. "Worried about me, huh? You're a good egg, Char. I'm just sleepy, but that's to be expected when you stay up all night. Let's try to sneak away earlier tonight, yeah? Make an excuse or something…"

"Tonight?" Charla echoed, a little startled, and Nuala gave her an odd look.

"Well, yeah. You didn't think that was it, did you? We gotta keep practicing, make sure we can do it easily and do it right. And I wanna figure out what the heck that was, when we connected… Some weird side-effect, I guess." Her eyes glittered. "Maybe we can make it work to our advantage."

Charla hesitated, but nodded. She knew what Nuala was talking about, and she wasn't sure she _wanted_ to know what it was—let alone feel it again. It had been so strange, that moment when she and Nuala had connected, when they had almost, in a way, become _one_. The thought made her scales prickle. But if they were going to do this—if they were going to be prepared to do it in a pinch, in the middle of a fight, when Charla needed that mana the most—then Nuala was right. They had to figure this out. They had to make it work.

Nuala patted her shoulder with a wing. "Off you go, then; go shoot some fireballs and wear yourself out. You've got plenty of mana now, and there's more where that came from." She grinned roguishly. "Don't keep the big guy waiting. He might get suspicious."

"R-right."

Shaking herself from her thoughts, Charla scampered to the doors and out into the late morning sun, her head full of secrets and nervous excitement—and Nuala's eager eyes seemed to follow her, burning like points of ice into the back of her neck.

* * *

"No, not like _that_. You're being too obvious—and look, you leave yourself wide open. You need to protect your face and throat–"

Charla pounced before he could finish. He wouldn't expect _that_. Her claws flexed, her wings flared, and she descended upon his thick scarred neck with a devilish grin—but Lance swung to the side with the fluidity of a dancer, and one hefty paw rose up to stop her. She had no way to avoid it.

But instead of slamming hard into the side of her head and sending her crashing senseless to the ground, that paw hooked around the back of her neck and dragged her down. That was all the opening Charla needed. She twisted like a fish out of water, lashed out her tail, and hooked her tailblade over one of his horns—just in time. His head jerked, a painful jolt raced down her spine, and suddenly both of them were sprawled in a tangled heap on the ground.

Charla rolled to her feet, freed her tail, and leapt away. Too late. The edge of Lance's wing clipped her across the face, blinding her, and his paw closed in an iron grip around her foreleg, yanking her back. Leaf-litter squelched and slipped out from under her paws; she skidded into the mud with a clipped yelp. A weight pressed down between her wings.

"Yield!" Lance growled close to her head.

She thrashed. Her wings whipped out to throw him off balance, her tail twisted up like a snake seeking prey, her claws tore gouges in the soft earth, flecking them both with mud and decaying leaves—but the weight did not lift. If anything, it seemed to get heavier, pressing her into the ground, forcing the air from her lungs. His legs were like tree-trunks, resolute in the face of her onslaught.

At last, she went limp.

"I yield! I yield, Lance!"

The weight vanished. Giggling breathlessly, Charla flipped onto her back and flung a pawful of leaf-litter into his face. Lance glared down at her, his muzzle dripping with mud. A smirk pulled at his mouth.

"Rotten kid," he growled. Then he grinned and, before she could wriggle away, swept his paw through the loose earth with force enough to send a spray of mud splattering across her chest.

Charla squealed and scrambled to get up, throwing herself at Lance as he let out a bark of laughter. Down they went, wrestling like apes, until they were both covered in mud and leaves and who knew what else. Then Lance pinned her down again, while Charla was giggling too much to struggle, and sat down heavily in the churned-up earth.

"I got you," Charla said breathlessly, moments later. "I surprised you, didn't I?"

"It wasn't much of a surprise," Lance said, rolling his eyes. "I _said_ you were being too obvious. I could have knocked you to the ground."

Charla poked her tongue out. "Then why didn't you?"

"Because I don't want to actually hurt you! Lunatic kid… What do you think I'm going to do, knock you out?"

She rolled over in the mud, grimacing. "I dunno, this is _boring_. Let's do magic stuff now. Please?"

Lance huffed. "This is _important_. But I guess we've done enough for now. Just try to _listen_ to me more next time. You can't rush this." He stood up and offered her his paw, which she grabbed to haul herself to her feet. "I thought you'd appreciate a break from element training, anyway. Your mana levels must be pretty low after yesterday. How much do you think you can manage? I'll have to talk to the monks tonight and see if they know of any spirit gems that grow in the forest… Meredy's going to need them, too."

His brow furrowed, as if this was the first time he'd considered that particular conundrum—one that could very well fling a fireball into his carefully crafted plans—and Charla felt the blood drain from her face.

 _That_ was something she hadn't thought of. Nuala mustn't have either, because she'd said nothing about it. But now the flaw in their plan seemed painfully, stupidly obvious.

 _How_ was she supposed to explain it to Lance?

If she told him she had plenty of mana, he'd want to know where she got it from. If she pretended she didn't, that could very well see a premature end to their magic lessons. And if he found out she was absorbing mana from Nuala…

Well, she wasn't exactly sure what would happen then, but she had a feeling it wouldn't be good. Nuala sure thought so.

But how else was she supposed to explain…?

 _Oh_.

The excuse came to her in the space of a single heartbeat. _Of course_. It was perfect. It was exactly what she needed. And it was all because Nuala had made her absorb that tree-sap.

"Actually, I already asked them," Charla blurted out, ignoring the heat that flooded her face as the lie dripped easily from her tongue. "There's, like, this _sap_ in one of their trees that acts like spirit gems. I already absorbed some of it, so I have plenty of mana! I can show you if you want."

Lance, who had been frowning in silent thought, stared at her like she was speaking in tongues. "Sap?" he echoed in disbelief. " _Tree_ sap?"

"Yeah! Um, the monks showed me."

For a second, she was sure he wouldn't believe her—her wings were already unfurling, preparing to take him there and prove it to him—but then she saw his eyes were glittering with wonder, not with disbelief.

"Tree sap," he said again, as if to himself. "I wonder…"

Charla tilted her head. Lance blinked and seemed to come back to himself.

"I'll have to take a look later," he said, "but if it's what I think it is, we're in luck. And the monks say it's okay for us to use this sap?"

"Y...yeah." Charla twisted her tail and made a mental note to ask a pangolin as soon as she saw one next. She was sure it would be fine, but just in case…

"Good. That's good news. Better than I expected, in fact." Lance smirked down at her. "In that case, we can train as much as we want. How about it, kid? Show me those fireballs of yours."

"Sure!"

Leaping to her feet, Charla bounded further out into the clearing with Lance on her tail, trying to mask her relief. And as midday came and went amongst explosions of fire and brimstone under Lance's watchful eye, she very nearly forgot her worries about Nuala and magic and the secrets that she had to keep.

She could do this. Everyone was counting on her. Jayce and Silverback were counting on her. And even if she had to train day and night, she was going to make this work.

* * *

It was in this manner that their week in the Sanghali Monastery flew by and drew swiftly towards its end. By day, Charla spent her time training with Lance, spying on Meredy's lessons, and trying to catch up on missed sleep in stolen patches of sunlight. By night, when the monastery was humming and their friends were snoring, she and Nuala made their move.

The alcoves inside the magic tree—as Charla had come to call it—remained their haunt for several nights, and it was here that their 'experiment' began to progress. Their second successful attempt was much the same as the first: A short but intense moment of magical connection, of bitter cold and flooding mana, before they'd jerked apart in breathless shock. Nuala had walked away from it with yet more bleeding puncture-wounds, and Charla was left shaken.

The third time, they tried something different.

"You need to keep your claws to yourself," Nuala said, "and we need to stay connected for longer if we're going to figure out what's happening when we do it. I can't have you absentmindedly digging my heart out!"

She said it with a laugh, but Charla's stomach clenched and her blood ran cold. Perish the thought. It still frightened her that it happened at all—that she forfeited control of her own paws to some deep inner yearning that cared for mana and mana alone. She didn't want to hurt anyone.

But it was not easy to find a better solution. Without her claws buried in Nuala's fur, in reach of the lifeblood thrumming through her veins like magic inside spirit gems, Charla just could not seem to feel her mana—let alone absorb it. Nuala tried everything she could think of. She laid her paws flat to Charla's chest; she sat on Charla's back and dug sharp claws into the sensitive spot between her wings; she pressed their foreheads together, bringing her face so close that Charla saw her as a deformed cyclops with a single icy eye. But none of it worked. Charla knew what she was seeking now, but she couldn't feel it.

Only when Nuala actually used her magic were things different. Charla felt it then—faintly, like a weak breeze licking at her scales, but not nearly enough to grasp. Nuala took it as a good sign.

"I'm going to use my magic _on_ you," she said—a last ditch effort before the dawn began to break and they were forced to return to their unsuspecting friends. "Nothing big. Just make you see something. But if that doesn't work, I dunno what will."

Charla knew—but it involved her claws in Nuala's flesh and blood on her paws, so she nodded without complaint. Nuala settled on her back. It had become a favourite place for her to sit in recent days, that hollow between Charla's wingjoints, her paws looped over Charla's hooked ivory horns. Now those paws clamped down on either side of her head, thin claws slipping needle-sharp between scales, and Charla braced herself.

The first thing she felt was the whisper of magic, like ripples over water, as if Nuala were a stone thrown into a once-still pond. Then, in the same breath, she found herself surrounded by spirit gems.

She knew they weren't there—and, beyond the shock of their sudden appearance, she wasn't surprised that this was Nuala's choice of illusion—but she felt the magic thrumming around them as surely as if they were real. Their colours danced as fiery tongues, pastel bright, but she couldn't feel their usual warmth. Instead she felt that cold alien magic, almost familiar now, as it trickled like ice-water from the sharp tips of Nuala's claws.

Her heart throbbed. She dug her claws into the nearest nonexistent gem. And mana surged into her.

It filled her like a rushing tide, burning with frigid power, flooding her empty spaces in an endless overflowing torrent—and once again, Nuala was inside her head. Charla trembled with the sudden weight of grief and rage, a pain that did not belong to her and yet had been hers all along, swirling and eddying around faces and memories she knew and yet had never seen. Her mind jerked and revolted, as if it knew something was wrong, as if it wanted to fight against the cold rise of this intruder.

But this time, Charla could not jerk away. Nuala was in charge, and she clung to Charla's head as if it were a lifeline. Her desires bled into Charla's deepest thoughts, and Charla felt herself a powerful determination to make this work no matter what. But her own mind struggled and fought, revolting against a force it couldn't touch, and panic rose with every passing mana-flooded moment. Nuala's claws were knives driving into her skull. Tongues of fire burst from her scales. It was too much. She was exploding.

 _Charla!_

 _CHARLA!_

The voice howled both inside her head and out of it; Nuala's determination changed shape, became the cold panic of desperation, frustration.

 _Stop!_ she seemed to be crying, but Charla couldn't tell if she said it aloud or just in her thoughts. _Charla, relax! It's me—it's just me! You're okay!_

Charla's shoulder struck the wall hard enough to send a bolt of dull pain shooting down her leg. She staggered, and that was when she realised she'd been thrashing like a snake, like a wild animal in its death throes. Something cleared a little. Whether it was the jolt of pain or the sound of Nuala's voice, something made her panic ease. Her mind bucked and flinched one more feeble time.

And then it was just her and Nuala, together, as one, two minds in a single body. Charla stood rigid in the centre of the alcove, her chest heaving, mana flooding her innards and flowing in ripples and bursts of fire from her scales. A strange haze hovered at the edges of her eyes, but it calmed her like a cool breeze on a hot day.

She was okay. She was safe. Nuala was here. Nuala would protect her.

 _Can you...hear me?_

The thought came strange and halting, rising from the incomprehensible pool of its fellows. Charla seized it.

Nuala, she thought. Nuala's voice.

 _Yeah, Char. It's me. This is nuts. I'm not even speaking and you're… This is nuts._

There was a tremulous pause, and then...

 _I can feel…your fire…_

Something twinged in the pit of Charla's gut—a want, a suggestion _,_ a question that she knew the answer to. Without hesitation, she opened her mouth and exhaled a gush of fire, and as it licked and curled in the open air, she saw its edges were burning with a sharp blue light. A jolt of shock surged through her—but was it hers, or was it Nuala's?

Unease rose again, unbidden, struggling; she felt like she was falling, losing control, open and vulnerable in the confines of her own mind. Suddenly, she just wanted to be free.

Let me go, she tried to cry, but no words left her mouth. Panic rose again; fire twisted in her gut.

Then Nuala wrenched free. There was a brief stabbing pain, like a blade being yanked from her flesh, and the rush of power surging out of her left a hollow in her gut that made her feel like she'd been punched. She was empty of everything, gasping on nothing. She was so cold.

But at last she was alone in her head again, and everything was suddenly clearer—like a cloud had shifted. Rubbing her bleary eyes, Charla lifted her head and found herself slumped and shivering in a corner of the alcove. There was a deep dry chill inside her, and her fire felt very far away, but magic filled her as surely as a river swollen with rain and she felt it thrumming in the cavity of her chest. Tiny wispy tongues of flame—blue as Nuala's eyes, but turning redder as she stared—peeled softly from her scales.

She didn't feel angry, not like last time, when the Qilin had overflowed her with power. She was too cold, too shaken—and she felt strange, ethereal, ghostly, like she wasn't really solid. Like this was just a dream.

That is, until Nuala flew into her face.

"That was crazy, Char!" she exclaimed, her eyes alight with mad excitement. "Did you feel that—do you know what just happened? We connected, we really connected! I felt _your_ magic; I felt like _I_ could use it! It's like...like…!"

"Like we became one," Charla said automatically, as the words came to her beyond the thrum of mana in her ears. She blinked, took a few deep breaths, and puffed some fire from her nostrils—odd fire, bluish at the edges—and some of the confusion began to ease. The cold diminished, just a little, the leaking tongues of mana faded, and the strange feelings left with it.

"Exactly!" Nuala said, clapping her on the shoulder. "You're not just absorbing mana from me—it's like we're _sharing_ it! Imagine what we could do with this, Char! If we could…could…combine our powers! Our magic! Think of the possibilities!"

She gripped Charla by the jaw and stared into her eyes, and that was perhaps when she realised Charla wasn't exactly herself. Her brow furrowed.

"You okay, Char? You kinda freaked out a bit there. Was it painful for you?"

Charla blinked again and felt herself fall back into her body, as if her mind had been hovering somewhere above her and had only now decided to come down. She licked her lips. "N-no, not really. I just…felt like I didn't understand what was happening. Like…like I was losing control. I guess I panicked…" She shivered and added quietly, "Your magic makes me feel cold."

"Yeah, your magic feels like taking a bath in lava," Nuala said with a wry grin. "No wonder mine feels cold to you."

Her cheeks warmed a bit. She felt calmer. "Did you really feel it? My magic?"

"Sure did! And did you see that fire you breathed? It looked like _my_ fire—like it was one of my illusions. That's what I mean; it's like we're combining our magics! And if we could make illusions and fire at the same time, with endless mana and draconic power… Imagine it! Charla, imagine what we could do! Nothing could stand in our way!"

Her claws dug into Charla's scales, her face glowing with fervour, but Charla pulled away. She wasn't sure she liked the feeling of being connected to Nuala. The cold, the weight, the bombardment of strange memories and feelings—the feeling of losing control… And she didn't understand what was happening! It was no wonder she had been thrown into a blind panic.

But never had she seen Nuala so excited, and she couldn't deny that the rush of mana flooding her innards had been exhiltering. Even now, as it pulsed inside of her and steadily began to warm, she felt like she could set the world on fire. She felt like she had in the wake of the Qilin, burning with power, great and untouchable—an unstoppable force of nature, the beating heart of fire itself.

If she met Gaul now, she felt like she wouldn't even be afraid. She'd burn him to ashes. She'd make him pay.

She met Nuala's gaze and returned her grin. "You're right. We could do anything."

Nuala's eyes shone. "We're gonna be unstoppable, Char. Just you wait and see."

And see they did. Every night that followed, they returned to the dark alcoves and connected once more. Each time was easier than the last, and by the fifth night Charla didn't even need the spirit gem illusion to set it in motion—all she needed was Nuala's paws on her forehead and a moment of stillness, and she felt the mana flowing through the vulpala's blood as surely as she felt it within herself. It was easy to draw it in, to let it flow into the empty spaces left after her lessons with Lance.

Yet, harder to master was the connection itself. Charla could not escape the surge of panic that overtook her senses whenever it happened—when she felt Nuala inside her head, and the falling sensation of losing control. After several attempts she could repress it faster, but still she could not stop it entirely. Only Nuala's calm determined thoughts, pulsing through Charla's own mind, could steady her and bring her back from the edge of hysteria.

When she broke through it, however, she was filled with power. It was a detached, superior sort of power, as if she was high and untouchable and capable of doing anything she could ever desire, and her enemies were ants crawling at the foot of her mountain. Nuala's confidence bled through her, and her thoughts and feelings came clearer to Charla with every night that passed. Soon, after they'd ridden through the moments of panic, Charla began to feel that Nuala was not an intruder inside her mind but an extension of herself. She didn't need a clear thought to hear her voice; all she needed was a hint, a feeling, and she knew at once what Nuala was thinking. They were joined. They were one.

And so was their magic. Fire and illusion became one and the same; red gave way to blue. But without some creature or enemy to practice upon, they could not be sure of its effects. It was only the rain, on and off for days—and the fear of their friends finding out—that kept them from heading out into the dark forest in search of some hapless animal to be their prey.

But as the days passed and the week drew towards its end, Charla found herself growing increasingly exhausted. They were supposed to be resting, and yet she could not remember another time when she had been so busy—let alone slept so little. Even when they returned to the room in the wee hours of the morning, sleep did not come easily to her. She tossed and turned for ages, too full of magic for either mind or body to relax, too cold to stop shivering. And when the sun rose, she forced herself to get up as normal.

Lance suspected nothing, and Charla planned to keep it that way. She knew he wouldn't understand—that he might even try to put a stop to their mana-sharing experiments—and she couldn't run that risk. He mustn't find out. Nuala was very clear about that. And between keeping up pretences, training every morning, and spying on Meredy every afternoon, Charla felt like a pool that had sprung a leak.

She only hoped she didn't look as tired as Meredy. With every day that passed at the monastery, Meredy, instead of looking stronger, just seemed to get worse. The dark circles under her eyes grew darker. The tangle of her fur grew tighter. The hollow of her cheeks grew deeper.

And every morning, Charla woke to find her gone. Where she went, nobody seemed to know—but Charla was getting worried. She knew Meredy's lessons with Lance weren't going well; she'd spied enough to see that Meredy resisted him at every turn, that her temper had grown short and she was always quick to tears. Wind magic continued to break free of her in uncontrolled splutters and bursts, tearing up soft earth and pulling loose branches from trees, and Lance was losing his patience. Charla never dared to interrupt.

With all of this going on, it was no wonder that, as the seventh night of their stay in the monastery came and went, Charla realised she had quite forgotten something.

She was tossing and turning yet again in the small hours of the morning, trying and failing to fall asleep with her innards a blaze of cold magic, when it came to her. The carvings. The Night of Eternal Darkness. The pangolins. All of this time she'd spent gallivanting about their monastery, mere pawsteps away from a glimpse of her future, and not once had she done anything about it. She hadn't even gone back to the chamber of carvings yet—nor asked anyone else about the eclipse over the Well of Souls, nor begged a pangolin to give her a hint, just a hint, about what might still be yet to come. And now, as their week here drew to a close, she realised she had squandered all of this time.

She had to do it soon. She had to try. While they were still here, she had to find out if there was anything the pangolins could tell her about the future rising dark beyond her sight. There wouldn't be another chance like this.

Tomorrow, she told herself, as she rolled over and gazed tiredly at her friends—at Nuala, who snored like a creature with no troubles at all; at Lance, who slept silent and grim with a furrow in his brow; at Meredy, who twitched and whimpered in the grip of her unending nightmares. And as her eyelids drooped, as the cold mana warmed steadily inside her chest, Charla at last surrendered to her exhausted self and pulled that thought down with her into the dark realm of dreams.

 _Tomorrow. I'll do it tomorrow…_


	17. Stealing Glimpses

**Chapter 17**

 **Stealing Glimpses**

 _A mountain draped in shadow._

 _A face of stone beneath two moons._

 _Darkness._

Charla jolted awake with violet flames in her eyes, but the darkness was still there. It was all around her, lurking in the corners of the room, turning her friends into shadowy figures, devouring the world beyond the window into a deep black void—and she was sinking into it, swallowed whole, stolen from the light. Then the grip of her nightmare loosened and she realised it was only the normal nighttime dark, and the dim glow of breaking dawn was creeping over the windowsill. She'd hardly slept at all. It was barely daybreak.

But the panic did not ease. She rolled onto her stomach, breathing shakily. The dream remained stark and real inside her head, and did not fade into tongues of smoke as dreams tend to do. She pressed her forehead into the tough fibres of her sleeping mat.

Why?

Why _now_?

All this week she'd managed to ward off the fear of the Night of Eternal Darkness. She'd pushed it to the back of her mind, focused on things that were, for the moment, more pressing and less beyond her reach. And when it _had_ reared its ugly head, there was one spark of reassurance she'd been able to cling to—that she'd not dreamed of it again, that it had let her sleep in peace since she'd left behind the jackals at Earthrise Range. In the face of the unknown, that was the only thing that had comforted her.

So _why now_? Why had it come back to disturb her sleep when she had stopped expecting it, when she was already exhausted enough as it was?

There had been no jackals this time, and for some reason that scared her. It was as if this was beyond even them now—as if they no longer had any reason to guide her, because the Well of Souls was calling her itself. She'd seen it rise beyond the lands ahead of her, felt its pull across earth and forest and lake, and even now it shivered like an unspoken yearning in the corner of her mind.

 _Go to it. Answer its call. Let it guide you through the darkness._

Charla swallowed and rested her cheek to the cold floor. That was when she realised she wasn't the only one awake. A soft whimpering sound had broken the silence—or maybe it had always been there and she hadn't noticed—and for a moment she wasn't sure where it was coming from. But then there was a gasp and a sound like a dry sob, and she recognised Meredy's voice.

The sky serpent had sat up, her form barely visible through the gloom, her head in her paws. She rocked herself back and forth, back and forth; Charla, invisible in the darkness, lay still and watched.

Then, abruptly, as if something had stung her, Meredy shook her head and jolted to her feet. She looked once around the room—Charla shut her eyes, just in case—and then padded towards the door. Her footsteps shuffled close to Charla's head, and then came the barely audible _swish_ of the curtain. Silence fell.

Charla dared to open her eyes. Meredy was gone, but the curtain was still swaying as though in a nonexistent breeze. She dug her claws into the mat.

Again… There she went again. Charla had never been awake to actually _see_ Meredy leave on her secret morning endeavours, and now she was struck with the rising urge to know where she was going, what she was doing, why her restless sleep always drove her out into the monastery so early in the morning.

And she couldn't stay here with the Night of Eternal Darkness circling like a hunter about her thoughts, waiting for her to fall back into its nightmare world. There would be no more sleep for her tonight. But Lance and Nuala were still sleeping soundly, like the end of the world could not wake them, and Charla paid them no heed as she scurried to the doorway and pushed her head through the curtain.

She looked both ways. Meredy had disappeared, but the sound of her footsteps was padding away around the leftward curve of the corridor. Charla wasted no time. She slunk out of the room, let the curtain fall shut behind her, and followed.

She made no attempt to catch up, but stayed well back, out of sight, just barely within earshot of Meredy's slow shuffling steps. At any moment, she knew Meredy could stop and listen and sense her presence, sense the very air whispering tremulously from her nostrils. But, for many long minutes, she did not.

They circled around the curve of the corridor, through dull streams of light that crept in with the breaking dawn, past luminous geckoes still scurrying about in this last hour of darkness, and then down the twisted spiral of a stairwell. Meredy did not stop. But Charla remained cautious. She only ever got close enough to see the tuft on the end of Meredy's tail flick around the corner, and even then she hung back to let her get further ahead.

She wasn't sure why she was doing this. She could have just caught up—could have _asked_ Meredy where she was going and what she was doing—but there was a niggling feeling in the back of her head that told her it wouldn't work. Meredy wouldn't tell her so easily. Not after how silent and elusive she'd been in the last few days.

All the disappearing and the lurking in the dark corners of the monastery, as if she were hiding from Lance and his lessons…

Charla wasn't so busy that she hadn't noticed _that_. Meredy was hiding something. And she was going to find out what.

They left the stairwell on the next floor down, though Charla lingered on the threshold for a long moment, listening to Meredy padding away down the corridor. This was the level where the monks took their sermons and gathered for communal prayers, where the curtains over the doorways were colourful and intricately woven, and rich tapestries depicting scenes of the forest blanketed the walls. The sound of Meredy's shuffling paws had faded nearly beyond earshot. Charla lifted a paw to follow, but the murmur of a quiet voice stopped her.

She sucked in a breath and shrank back into the stairwell. It wasn't Meredy's voice, but it was familiar, feminine.

"I wondered if we'd see you this morning," it said. "Will you join our sermons again? They're just about to start. I thought to wait for you, just in case."

At first there was no response, and Charla wondered if the question wasn't aimed at Meredy. But then the sky serpent's tremulous voice whispered down the corridor.

"I'm sorry, Sister Pema, I don't think I'm in any state to attend the sermons this morning. I just...I just wanted someone to talk to. I thought you might…"

She trailed off, and Pema's voice came again, tinged with sympathy.

"Your dreams still trouble you, don't they? And now your departure draws near… You leave tonight, or so I have heard."

"Yes… Lance told me yesterday. Will you come with us?"

"I must ask the elders permission to join the guide that will see you to the edge of the forest, but yes, I intend to. I was the one to bring you here; I feel it only right that I should be there to see you on your way."

There was another long silence. Charla crept a little further out of the stairwell, straining to hear. None of this was news to her—except, perhaps, that it sounded like Meredy had attended these early-morning sermons before, maybe even more than once.

Was that where she disappeared to every morning? Why?

A long shuddering sigh came like a breath of cold air around the corner, and then Meredy's suddenly choked voice chased after it.

"Oh Pema," she said, and she sounded almost close to tears, "I feel like I've made a terrible mistake. I don't know why I'm here. Charla and the others all seem to know what they're doing and where they're going, but I don't. I don't know why I came here, why I followed them, what I'm _doing_ … I should have—I _know_ I should have gone to Mistral. But I didn't. I should be there _now_ , but instead...instead…"

There was a sound like a stifled sob.

"And now we're leaving here as well and we're just going to keep getting further and further away, into some horrible place—and I don't know why I'm here, Pema, I don't know why I'm with them. I just… I shouldn't have gone with them; I know I shouldn't. But I did. And I don't know what I'm supposed to do now. I don't think there's anything I _can_ do. I feel like… I feel like I shouldn't have come."

Charla listened with wide eyes, pressing herself to the wall. This was what was on Meredy's mind? No… She couldn't mean that. She wasn't thinking of _leaving_ , was she?

"Dear child," Pema murmured. "Such harsh choices you should never have had to make. But our world is in chaos, and in these times we all must face fears from which we would rather flee. We all have our regrets. The decisions we made, the paths we chose, the roads we didn't take… I cannot tell you why you are here or whether the choice you made is the right one—but I will do all in my power to help you deal with the situation you are in now, and to prepare you for the trials to come."

"You've already helped me, Pema… You've all been helping me. But I can't– The nightmares won't _stop_. I just can't…"

"I have tried to help you to help yourself," Pema said firmly. "I have taught you about dreams and visions; I have guided you in meditation, to unravel the chaos of your inner thoughts. But I have not done everything yet. There is still something that may help you, if only you are willing to face your nightmare one more time."

A hesitant pause. Charla crept closer still.

"What is it?" Meredy asked with a sigh. "I just want the nightmares to stop. Tell me what I can do."

"There is a pool," murmured Pema, "in a chamber at the foot of Oneira, amongst her tangled roots. Its waters are fed by the well of her magic, and in it we find that we may revisit our dreams."

"Revisit?" Meredy echoed.

"Yes. They appear to us like visions, exactly as they do in the realm of sleep. But the mind in slumber is a misted place, and rarely do dreams present to the sleeping eye as clear and easy to fathom. To see these visions sharpened by the clarity of wakefulness… It is an invaluable tool to those of us who seek to understand."

"So… I would see it again." Meredy's voice trembled. "I would see my nightmare again if I looked in this pool. How would that help me? I don't want to see it again; I've seen it so many times already! I just want it to leave me _be_. Let me sleep…"

Pema hushed her gently. "That is what we seek to accomplish. Dreams and visions are not unalike. They both seek to tell us something; to warn us, prepare us, remind us. And until we understand, it may never let us be.

"I do not know what it is that your nightmare seeks to tell you, but I do know that you are struggling to understand. Your slumbering mind is too vulnerable, too afraid… It shies away, and it cannot face the visions that spring forth. That much is clear to me. That is why I want to give you this chance. The chance to face that dream with the strength of a waking mind. Then, perhaps, you will understand."

"And...if I _understand_ ," Meredy said quietly, "will it leave me alone?"

"It is likely, at the very least."

In the silence that followed, Charla crept a few steps forward and paused, wavering with unease. She didn't understand what they were talking about—but it had something to do with Meredy's unending nightmares, and she wanted to know more. She wanted to know what troubled Meredy so much, what nightmare had plagued her for so many days, and whether it had anything to do with her struggles with magic… She wanted to know if Meredy really did regret coming with them.

"I don't know, Pema," Meredy sighed. "I don't know if I can face it again. It _scares_ me. And I already know what it is. I already understand. It's not just a dream. It's a memory…"

"But do you understand why you are reliving this memory again? These dreams have not plagued you since the moment that memory was formed. They came only recently. Why?"

"I…I don't know. I have an idea, but…" She broke off and made a small distressed noise.

"If you face it in the pool, I believe you will understand," said Pema. "But I will not force you either way. All I can say is, if you do not do this, I do not believe the nightmares will stop. Not until you understand, and that may take countless nights. There is little else I can do to help you."

"Can you…" Meredy hesitated. "Can you show me the pool, at least? I'll think about it…"

"Of course. A walk is good to clear the head, if nothing else. I'll show you there. We can excuse ourselves from sermons for the night…"

Then came the sound of shuffling paws. Charla choked on a gasp and spun around. They were coming back towards her, and she had nowhere to hide. Quick as a flash, she darted back to the stairwell and leapt up the first several steps, and there she crouched in the grey shadows and waited with shallow breaths.

She had no idea what to say if they found her here, skulking on the steps; she was sure there must be guilt painted all over her face. Meredy was already upset. Charla didn't want to see her angry again.

Their footsteps pattered past the threshold and into the stairwell, and Charla coiled herself to spring upwards, to escape. But instead they moved away, faded downwards until they were almost gone, and she released a breath of relief. Then she picked herself up and followed.

They walked for what felt like ages. Charla didn't know where they were going, because Pema's words had meant nothing to her. _The foot of Oneira…_ Who or what was _Oneira_? But when they stepped out into the open air and crossed a low bridge to one of the other monastery trees, she very quickly understood.

It was the magic tree—the one with the golden sap and the carvings on the walls, where she and Nuala had spent their secret nights. Of course a magic vision pool would be there of any place.

She scampered across the bridge well after them, following their disappearing forms into the tangled shadows of the tree's great roots. Here, it was easier to hide. The roots created twisted corridors and alcoves in which to hide a small body, and the occasional droplet of crystallised sap did little to light the gloom. Charla stayed close to Meredy and Pema, always just around the corner, trying not to breathe too loudly. Her stomach was flipping with nervous excitement. She had never been in this part of the magic tree before. She had a feeling she was about to see something amazing.

And, sure enough, as they came out into a hollow chamber amongst the forest of giant roots, she saw it. A little pool, enclosed on all sides by the protective embrace of the tree.

It was not a vast pool by any means, big enough to bathe in but not to swim, with room enough only for a small dragon to spread its wings. Around its edge, droplets of glassy golden sap formed a nigh unbroken ring—and it was those, perhaps, that afforded the water its strange metallic sheen. Feathery threads of moss and fungi hung in curtains over the pool, teasing the glass-still surface, shimmering in the low light. Charla was mesmerised.

"It's beautiful," Meredy breathed, as she and Pema approached its edge.

"Oneira's greatest gift to us," Pema murmured, "the culmination of her magic." She paused, and Charla sensed the question before it was spoken. "Will you look into it?"

Meredy swayed. She shifted her paws and glanced over her shoulder, as if seeking an escape, and Charla quickly pressed herself into the shadows around the corner. There was no gasp of surprise. She hadn't been seen.

A shuddering sigh left Meredy's lips. "You really think it will help me?"

"In one way or another, yes. It will help you."

A tremulous pause. Charla dared to peer around the corner again, just in time to see Meredy's first trembling steps towards the pool.

"Alright," she whispered. "I'll try."

Pema inclined her head but said nothing. Shivering from head to tail, Meredy crept to the edge and, when her claws touched the water, she jumped. Charla flinched. But Meredy calmed quickly.

"It's warm," she said.

Then she took a deep breath and stepped forward, until her forepaws were submerged and a rippling golden pattern was reflected on her chest. Her neck arched and her gaze drifted out over the water—but for a long moment, nothing happened. Hidden in the shadows, Charla twisted her paws and waited.

Then Meredy gasped.

"That's…" she whispered. "That's my… I can see _home_ …"

She shifted and moved forward, like a creature in a dream. Charla tensed, expecting Pema to call her back, but the pangolin watched in silence, her paws folded within her sleeves. Step by step Meredy waded deeper into the pool, and the water rose to her legs, to her stomach, to her shoulders, until it swallowed her entirely except for her swan-like neck and the fur along her spine, which drifted like reeds upon the surface. Strings of hanging moss brushed her horns, but she didn't seem to notice. Charla leaned forward.

And then Meredy went rigid. A ripple jerked through her body, and her head pulled back with a violent jolt.

"No…" she breathed, her voice rasping in the silence, "No…! Not this! Not again! I'm… I can't… No!"

She scrambled back, sending waves rippling over the surface, but her eyes never left the water. Her tail lashed out with a splash that made Charla jump.

"Mother… Mother! _No_! You have to go! I can't—I _can't_ —!"

She cried out again, wordless, an echoing wail that hung hauntingly in the cavern.

Charla caught her breath. What was happening to her? What _was_ this pool? What had Pema _done_?

She tensed her paws, prepared to spring, to reveal herself to save Meredy from whatever it was that tortured her in the water. But the sight of her writhing and wailing in the shimmering pool, while Pema watched on in grim silence, was transfixing. She couldn't move, and she couldn't look away. Meredy's cries rose to a terrified pitch.

And then, abruptly, she went silent.

Her body stilled. The water settled. And for a long moment, she stood like a figure carved from stone, her neck arched, a prisoner of the pool. Charla stared in horrified fascination.

Then Pema finally spoke.

"Come back now," she said, and Meredy shivered.

Her shoulders fell, her neck relaxed, and with a great cleansing sigh, the sky serpent raised her head and turned back to them. Her eyes were wet and bloodshot, her face was pale, and water dripped from her bedraggled mane. On unsteady legs, she stumbled back to the edge and out of the pool, and into Pema's waiting arms. There, she crumpled.

The pangolin held her as best she could, though she was dwarfed beneath Meredy's limp and shaking form, and soon her robes were drenched. Charla looked on, confused and anxious, no longer willing to reveal herself but wishing she knew what had happened. She didn't want to see Meredy like this. Shaking and scared and sad…

What was it that she had seen in the pool? What was it that plagued her dreams night after night?

"You are okay," Pema murmured into her fur. "The vision is over. You are safe."

Meredy shuddered into her robes, and Charla barely heard her muffled words. "I saw it, Pema… I saw what it wanted me to remember… I think…I think I understand now…"

Pema's hands tightened around her shoulders. "Then you are on your way to healing. You have faced the dream. And now you must face what it has told you."

"I'll try… I'll try."

They stayed like that for several silent moments, until Meredy pulled her head back and stepped away. She had stopped shivering, and the colour had come back to her face. And though her eyes were dark and sad, they were no longer haunted by whatever they had seen. It looked as though a weight had lifted from her shoulders. Pema touched her shoulder.

"Let me guide you back to your room. I think both of us are due for a good long sleep."

Then she smiled and Meredy, for the first time that morning, returned it.

"Yes… I think that's exactly what I need."

As they turned their backs on the pool and shuffled towards the exit, Charla—who had receded into her own thoughts and stopped paying attention—stifled a gasp. They were coming back towards her, and this time there was no stairwell to hide in. She scrambled backwards, scanning for a hiding place, but there was no time. All she could do was dive into a shadowy hollow in the twisted wall of the corridor, and hope against hope that it was dark enough to hide her. She screwed her eyes shut and held her breath.

Footsteps padded towards her. Closer…closer… They were right beside her and she could hear their breathing, hear the patter of the water still dripping from Meredy's fur. She mustn't move. She was a shadow. She wasn't there.

No one reached out to her; no one cried out in shock or alarm. They shuffled past and faded around the corner. And just like that, Charla was alone.

She blinked open her eyes. Their footsteps were fading, leaving her in silence, leaving her alone in the gloom with only the shimmering pool for company.

The pool…

Charla shivered and turned, her scales prickling with the sense of latent magic in the air. Almost of their own accord, her paws guided her forwards.

The water was still and glassy, reflecting the light of the golden sap, but something about it had changed. Before, it had seemed clear and clean, like fresh water bubbling from a spring, but now there was something almost _oily_ about its surface, as if it had been contaminated by something. Something slick and dark and sick-looking.

Charla poked it with a claw. The water rippled. It was warm, just as Meredy had said. But when she pulled back, she saw the oily sheen had clung to her claw and quickly wiped it off on a patch of moss. Weird…

Had it been like this before? She hadn't been close enough to see, but she couldn't imagine the water would change so easily. It wasn't like Meredy had been covered in muck, before _or_ after she'd slipped into the pool. Maybe this was just how it was.

Charla shifted and looked around. The chamber was dark and empty, and the sounds of Pema and Meredy had long since faded. She was alone. No one was there to see her, to stop her…

A quick look wouldn't hurt, right?

Maybe it would show her something she needed to know. Something about the Well of Souls, the eclipse, the Night of Eternal Darkness…

She crept to the edge, sank her paws into the water. The oily substance clung to her, wrapping itself around her legs, but she ignored it. Her eyes were fixed on the surface. She waited.

And sure enough, like a clearing of fog on a cold spring morning, an image began to appear. It grew brighter and clearer with each passing second, luring her deeper into the pool, just as it had lured Meredy; Charla hardly noticed the water rising to her stomach and then to her shoulders. But it was not an image of the Well of Souls. It was a city.

It was a small but beautiful city, with slender towering spires built of stone as white as ivory, and around it there was nothing but scudding clouds and open blue sky. Charla had never seen it before, and yet it felt as though she had always known it. It was familiar. It was home.

And it was burning.

The flames were bright in Charla's eyes, and they burned with a hellish red glow, throwing waves of blood-red colour across the white streets of Zephyr. _Zephyr…_ Yes, that was its name. That was home. At least, it _had_ been. Now it was crumbling around her. A cacophony of screaming ripped through the blazing air, tearing through her like a knife through parchment, filling her with terror. Smoke and ash burned her throat, choked her lungs. She was running, but her legs were failing her.

A screech tore through her head, bringing her to the ground. She thrashed in terror, and through streaming eyes she saw the monster that descended upon her—the huge dark wings, the screaming mouth, the enormous talons. The dreadwing howled as it reached to grab her, to end her, to tear her asunder.

But then a roar of focused wind slammed into its barrel chest, sending it reeling to the ground in a heap of matted fur. Charla scrambled to get up, but her legs wouldn't work; fear had turned them to jelly. She floundered on the cobblestone, until a huge paw swept her up like a sack of rocks and wrenched her into the air. A gasp left her lungs, along with the rest of whatever air she'd had left.

Coughing and spluttering, she twisted around and saw what had saved her—a beautiful serpentine beast, her peach scales shining in the sun, her lithe sinewy body rippling out behind her like a banner in the wind.

"Mum?" she choked.

The great sky serpent hissed and her eyes flashed with fury and fear. "Where is your father? Meredy, where is your father?!"

"I… I don't know," Charla heard herself say, gasping between words. "I don't know!"

Another hiss. Her mother twisted in the air and opened her jaws; Charla heard the bullet of wind more than she saw it, watched a dreadwing fall screeching as it was struck by the invisible blast.

"Mother!" Charla cried. "What's happening? Why are they attacking us? What did we _do_?"

"We existed," her mother snarled. Then she spun violently and twisted back towards the burning city, still clutching Charla to her chest. "We must find your father! The sheltered fool… If anything has happened to him…"

But they didn't make it any further than that. At that moment, a chorus of shrieking cries assailed them in midair, and the great sky serpent spiralled to a halt. Charla jerked her head around, her heart rising hot into her throat. Dreadwings, dreadwings… They were surrounded by dreadwings, a veritable army of them, and even her mother—so strong, so fierce—could not hope to face so many at once.

She hissed and roared at them, her long golden mane flowing in a sudden gale, but the monsters roared back. They knew they had the numbers. They knew they could win.

Charla trembled. Her mother's paws tightened briefly around her, almost breaking through her feeble thin scales.

"You must go," she growled, and Charla barely heard her. "Find your father. And if you cannot… Mistral. You must go to Mistral. Fly swift. Fly strong. Be brave. You are your mother's daughter, whether you believe it or not."

Charla didn't understand. What was she saying? _Why_ was she saying this? But before she could begin to understand, before the fear of what was about to happen had truly taken hold, her mother gripped her hard and _threw_ her.

She screamed as she was flung out into open space, into the empty smoky air, as the wind bit harshly at her burning scales. But as she began to fall, as her stomach was left behind, she fought back. The wind was inside her. The wind was everywhere. She _was_ the wind.

And she flew. Without wings or feathers she flew, twisting snakelike through the hazy air, as she was always meant to. For half a second, she was weightless and free.

Then her mother's scream rent the air, and it cut through her like a fired blade. Charla twisted and sought her desperately, ignoring her stinging eyes.

Her mother was there above her, flailing and writhing like a captured snake, and the dreadwings were all over her. They dug their claws into her beautiful scales, sank their fangs into her flesh; flecks of dark red blood scattered in the air, a hazy cloud of death. Charla screamed.

"Go!" her mother shrieked, her voice high and feral. "Get away! Go to Mistral! Fly! Fly, Meredy!"

Then she screamed her last and Charla watched in abject horror as her world was rent apart. Blood rained upon Zephyr. The dreadwings screeched and struggled, monsters fighting over scraps of prey. Charla fled.

She flew like the Dark Master himself was on her tail—and he might as well have been, because when she dared to look behind she saw that many of the dreadwings had seen her and had followed. They darted after her, yawning their fanged mouths wide, leading with their bloodstained talons, straining to pluck her out of the air like she was no more than a helpless little bird. Fear exploded through her body. She flew with all the strength of magic that she had, ducking and weaving around the burning spires of Zephyr, blindly following a path she couldn't see. But the dreadwings were faster.

They snatched at her tail, ripping at the trailing tuft of fur. She spiralled, shrieking, out of their reach, and caught herself on a current of hot ashy air. A blast of magic surged her forward, away from the dreadwings, away from the city; she paid no attention to where she was going, to where the monsters were chasing her. She just flew, her chest aching, her mother's last moments replaying in a gory loop behind her eyes, a sob lodged in her burning throat.

She was going to die. She couldn't escape. She was going to die.

The dreadwings were upon her. Claws scoured across her back and tore fur from her mane; she dropped in the air, gasping at the sting of pain. Her head wrenched around, seeking an escape, but there wasn't one. The monsters had surrounded her. They would tear her apart, just as they had torn mother apart, just as they had torn her city apart. They would rip her limb from limb. They would devour her.

Far away, above the burning remains of the place she called home, a great black dragoness spread her blood-red wings and screamed her victory. And Charla screamed too.

It was a scream of pain and terror, of loss and agony. But it was more than that. It was a scream of rage. Rage that filled her like a tide of rising hot air. Rage that devoured every other sense, that stole her terror and twisted it into something stronger, something darker. Rage that engulfed her, body and soul. Rage that became her.

The dreadwings closed in. And the storm broke.

The wind was a weapon and it lashed like knives, tearing wings from bodies and snapping bones like twigs. It surrounded her in a twisting funnel of jagged edges, howling, howling, and the dreadwings shrieked as they were broken apart like toys, fragmented like so many brittle leaves. Their blood scattered in the wind, just as her mother's had done, and her storm turned red like the light of a dying sun. It roared without end, and Charla was no longer in control. Maybe she had never been in control. All she knew was the screaming of the dreadwings, the feeling of hot wet blood on ashy scales, the roar of the storm as it fought to tear her from the sky just as it had torn her victims. She failed before it.

She was no master of the wind. She could not control it. She was nothing.

And then she was falling, falling out of mind and sound, falling into the gaping maw of shadow and silence from whence there was no return. The world broke into pieces. She dissolved.

Then someone gripped Charla hard around the shoulders and dragged her bodily from the pool.

Gasping and spluttering, Charla writhed on the ground, spitting bitter water from her mouth, her mind reeling. For a moment she wasn't sure where she was— _who_ she was—but then the glow of crystal sap entered her eyes and she heard a low voice muttering beside her head.

"Oh, you foolish child. Foolish, foolish child. But you could not have known. I should have come back sooner…"

Charla drew in a long shuddering breath and lifted her head. She was wet, cold and shivering, and Pema was standing over her, wringing her hands. Her beetle-black eyes were bright with worry. Charla coughed and swallowed.

"What…what just happened?"

Pema deflated.

"Oh, child," she said, wiping Charla's face with the edge of her sleeve. "You should not have looked in the pool. Not so soon. Those dreams were not for you. Those memories were not yours to see."

"I don't understand." Charla pulled away, pawing at her face. It was slick and oily. "What happened? Why did I…"

"The pool was not cleansed. There was still residue." Pema shook her head. "The pool holds a strange magic and its waters are sensitive. Dreams and visions sit like oil on its surface, and over time the tree cleanses it, until it is clear and pure again. But to use it when the residue remains…"

Charla shivered and looked back at the pool. It had settled again, returned to its still and greasy sheen, but the vision remained vivid in her mind. And now that she had been pulled back into her own head, she realised with an uncomfortable twist of the gut that she understood what she'd seen.

"That was Meredy's nightmare," she mumbled. "I saw it. I was _in_ it. I…felt like I _was_ her."

Pema looked pained. "It was not yours to see. To spy upon another's memories, whether intended or not… There is no deeper invasion of privacy."

"W-well, I didn't _mean_ to! I didn't know that would happen; I just wanted to look in the pool! It wasn't _my_ fault." Charla's face burned with heat, but it didn't last long. As another thought struck her, the blood promptly drained from her cheeks. "Where's Meredy? She was with you. Is she– Did she see—?"

"I sent her back to your room," Pema said grimly. "I told her there was something I'd forgotten to do and came back here alone. I thought I sensed that someone had followed us… But why, child? Why skulk in the dark? You should have asked before you used the pool. I could have told you…"

"I-I'm sorry, alright?" Charla swallowed. She couldn't stop shaking, but the knowledge that Meredy hadn't come back with Pema afforded her some relief. She didn't know. She didn't know that Charla had seen a glimpse of a memory she shouldn't have. "I was just worried about Meredy. I wanted to know what you were doing. She's been acting weird lately, that's all…"

"Your friend suffers from much anxiety," said Pema, and though her eyes softened somewhat, her face was still taut and unfriendly. "She has come to us for guidance these past few nights, but there is only so much we can do to help her. You would do better to speak to her yourself, not skulk in her shadow like some hungry scavenger."

The heat rushed to Charla's face again, and she couldn't tell if it was from anger or shame. "I said I was sorry! I didn't mean it!"

 _I didn't mean to spy on her worst memory…_

And she was sure now that was what it was. Not just a nightmare but a terrible memory. A memory of the ravaging of Zephyr, and the moment her life had been torn apart. The last time she had used magic.

"And yet it happened," said Pema. "You hold in yourself a memory that isn't yours, and one terrible enough to torment your friend in her most vulnerable moments. What will you do with it? Will you tell her? Will you let it fester within yourself? Will you let it colour your opinion of the one you call friend? Will it torment you, too?"

Charla backed away, cowering before these unanswerable questions, her anger failing as Pema's voice rose in strength and volume. And it seemed to her eyes then that the pangolin grew taller, filling the small chamber, dwarfing Charla in her expanding shadow.

"I… I don't… I didn't mean…"

Words failed her. Images twisted and merged inside her head. Pema leaning over her, a shadowy figure full of secrets and forbidden knowledge; the Well of Souls rising dark beneath embracing moons; Meredy encased in a raging storm of wind and blood and unchecked magic. Her heart shriveled up like a dying ember.

"I– I have to go."

Then she turned and fled, away from the pool and the pangolin, from visions and memories that were hers and were not, and she didn't look back. Nor did she hear whatever it was that Pema called after her, but the pangolin's voice chased her all the way through the twisting corridors and out into the cold dark dawn.

* * *

Charla was tensed for anything when she pulled back to the curtain to their room, but she hadn't expected to find everyone asleep. Lance and Nuala were exactly where she'd left them, and Meredy was again curled up on her sleeping mat, as if she'd never left. She was so still that, for a second, Charla thought she was faking slumber—but then she inched closer, saw the slack, peaceful face, the steady rise-and-fall of her ribs, and knew that Meredy had fallen into a deep and dreamless sleep.

How, Charla had no clue.

Hunching her shoulders, she padded over to her mat and lay down, and for a moment she just sat there, gazing into the gloom of early dawn, listening. All was silent. Her friends' steady breathing whispered around her. Everything was calm.

But Charla's heart was racing and, even when she shut her eyes, sleep did not come easily. When it did, it pulled her down into a world of strange dreams, which twisted and merged with one another in a mess of senseless vision. She dreamed of the fall of Zephyr, of fire in the floating isles, and of Meredy exploding in a vortex of blood and wind; she dreamed of the Well of Souls rising on the horizon, calling her to it as the moons eclipsed above its peak. She dreamed that she was Meredy, and when her own furious storm threw her out of the sky, she dreamed that she fell down, down, into the gaping jaws of the Well, while the embracing moons loomed above her as a single glaring eye.

It was late morning when she awoke to the sun in her eyes, feeling twitchy and restless and no less exhausted. The room was full of hazy greenish light, and Lance and Nuala were awake—the former hunched over their map for the hundredth time, as if just by staring he could change what it told him, the latter languishing on the windowsill with her wings spread out to catch the sun. Meredy was still asleep.

Charla gazed at her in wonder and unease. She looked so peaceful, so untroubled by the nightmares that usually plagued her. But what had changed? Had the pool somehow cured her? Or had it exhausted her so thoroughly that she'd had no more energy to dream again, at least for today? Charla couldn't be sure.

"No training today," Lance told her when she asked. "We're leaving tonight, first thing at dusk, so don't expect to get much sleep later. Relax. Take Meredy's example and get some more rest. You'll need it."

Nuala grunted in agreement.

So, with nothing else to do and the weight of exhaustion still heavy on her eyelids, Charla settled on her mat and all too easily slipped back into that land of twisted dreams.

When next she woke, the shadows had lengthened and the sunlight had deepened to the warm amber of late afternoon. Lance was asleep, and Nuala had changed her position on the windowsill, her back propped up against the side, her head nodding. Charla couldn't tell if she was dozing or awake. But Meredy was up now and she sat with her paws folded, gazing out at the forest with the faraway look of one with too much to think about.

She looked better than she had in a long while, Charla thought. The darkness under her eyes had faded somewhat, and even the hollow of her cheeks seemed less pronounced. She'd groomed her fur, and now it trailed soft, white and pristine down her back. But Charla could only wonder what was happening inside her head, what the vision in the pool had made her realize, what she was thinking now. Then Meredy caught her staring, smiled, and Charla's face burned.

Did she know? Had she suspected last night, when she'd returned from her dawn wanderings to find Charla gone from the room? Did she know that Charla had spied on her in the worst way possible?

That smile gave nothing away. And all she said was, "Did you have a good sleep? You slept even longer than I did."

Nuala cracked an eye open before Charla could gather herself to speak. "You both slept like logs. You got the right idea, though. Ain't gonna be any sleeping tonight…"

She yawned. Meredy looked down.

"Right… We're leaving. I almost forgot. I suppose we won't do anything else today, then." She looked nervously at Lance, as if expecting him to come awake suddenly and announce that it was time for another lesson.

Charla rubbed the sleep from her eyes. "Lance said we won't do any more training today. He said we should rest."

"I see…"

They lapsed into a sleepy, thoughtful silence, and Charla began to relax. It didn't seem like Meredy suspected her of anything, and that was a weight off her mind. But as she sat there with her head full of the Well of Souls, the dream pool, and the long trek through the nighttime forest that awaited them, she suddenly remembered what she'd promised herself before falling asleep last night.

She sat up quickly. She'd forgotten! Their last day at the monastery and she'd slept most of it away!

Meredy looked at her, startled, and Charla made a split-second decision. There was still a little time before dusk. This was her last chance.

"I'm going for a walk," she said, standing up. "I want to look around again before we go."

Nuala snorted. "Suit yourself. I've seen enough of this place to last me a lifetime. Just don't get lost or Lance will have a stroke."

Charla cracked a grin and opened her mouth to say she wasn't _that_ dumb—but Meredy was faster.

"I'll come with you, if that's okay?" she said, and a little nervous thrill prickled through Charla's paws. "I'd like one more look around, too."

"Uh…sure." Charla looked away quickly, cursing herself. She couldn't very well say _no_ to Meredy; that would be suspicious, or at least not very nice. But after what had happened this morning, the thought of being alone with Meredy made her mouth turn dry.

"Have fun," Nuala slurred from the windowsill, waving a lazy paw. "I'll stay here and make sure Lancey doesn't freak out when he wakes up and you're not here."

Charla grimaced. Why did she always fail to think about that? "Thanks," she grumbled.

Then she plodded out into the corridor, swishing the curtain out of her way, and hoped that Meredy wouldn't follow. But of course she did; Charla had said she could. And when the curtain swung shut behind them, they found themselves alone together for the first time in weeks. Had it really been weeks? Not since Earthsoul, and in some ways that felt like it had been years ago.

Charla expected the awkward silence that followed—but she didn't expect it to break so quickly.

"Where did you want to go?" Meredy asked, and Charla almost jumped.

She faltered. She knew exactly where she was going—back to that chamber of carvings, to scour the walls in search of something, anything, that might hint towards her future and the fate of Jayce and Silverback—but how to tell that to Meredy…?

"There's a place I want to check out in the magic tree," she finally said, leading the way down the corridor. "I went there before, but—"

"The magic tree?"

Charla's face warmed. "Uh, the one with all the glowy things."

"Do you mean Oneira?"

Right. That name again; the one Pema had used that morning. Charla cocked her head. "Is that its name?"

Meredy giggled, and the sound was so unlike anything Charla had heard from her in the last few days that she was momentarily starstruck. "I suppose you haven't been talking to the monks much, have you? All of the monastery trees have names. This one is Agapi, the Tree of Love; the others are Sofia, the Tree of Wisdom, and Oneira, the Tree of Dreams. They're named after the three dryad sisters they used to be, or so the story goes."

She smiled at Charla's bewildered face. "Though, Oneira _is_ the most magical of all the sisters, so calling her 'the magic tree' is fitting, too… We can go there. I haven't seen much of Oneira myself."

So on they went, and now the silence that fell was long and awkward. Charla was in turmoil. This morning's vision, and all subsequent dreams, had left her with a great many feelings she didn't know what to do with. Unease for what she did not understand. Fear for what she did. Guilt for what she was not meant to. Regret for what she had done. She thought again of Pema, of what the pangolin had said after pulling her from the pool. _Would_ she tell her?

Would she tell Meredy that she had stolen a glimpse of her dreams, her memories?

She could not imagine voicing such a thing, and no matter how she tried, she could not shake the image of Meredy's last deadly fury. The wind like blades, the screams cut short…

What if that had happened the other day? Lance had said she could have brought down trees with her uncontrolled burst of magic, but Charla hadn't really _believed_ him. Now… Now she got the feeling that they were lucky to be alive. Meredy could have torn them apart, just as she'd done those dreadwings, and Charla didn't think any natural magic resistance could protect her from _that_.

Now she understood what Lance had meant when he'd called Meredy dangerous. She was a thunderhead removed from the sky. She was a storm waiting to happen.

And she had no idea that Charla knew it.

At least, Charla thought she didn't. They were almost to Oneira when Meredy broke the silence again, this time with a question that made the scales rise on the back of Charla's neck.

"Did you go somewhere this morning? I-it's just, I went to see the monks before sunrise and you weren't there when I came back. I would have looked for you, but I was exhausted… Is everything okay?"

Charla's tongue had turned to wood. A hundred lies ran through her head—explanations, excuses, reasons—but, in the end, the only thing for it was to tell the truth.

Some of it.

"Actually, I went looking for _you_ ," she said. "I woke up and you were gone, so I got worried. I couldn't find you, though, so I came back and saw that you were back too, so…yeah."

Meredy's cheeks went pink. "I didn't think… I'm sorry I worried you. I didn't think anyone would notice. I just haven't been sleeping very well lately, and the monks have been helping me… I didn't want to waste anyone's time."

"But you slept okay today, right? You're okay with going tonight, aren't you?" Charla insisted, still shaken. She hadn't forgotten, either, the things Meredy had said to Pema—the feeling that she shouldn't have come, that she should have gone to Mistral after all. She didn't still think that, did she?

She definitely wasn't thinking about staying behind… Was she?

Meredy hesitated—it was only a split second, but Charla was sure she saw it. Then she smiled and said quickly, "Of course. It's a shame we can't stay a little longer, but I won't hold you back. I know this is important to you. And I did sleep a lot better after I spoke to...to the monks."

The colour in her cheeks darkened and she looked away, silenced. Charla said nothing. She could tell that Meredy was trying to avoid any mention of Pema and the pool—and that meant she really didn't know that Charla had been there to see everything. The tension eased a little from her body. Meredy didn't know. And if she had been planning to stay behind, she would have said something by now—she had Charla alone, the perfect opportunity to admit anything like that. But she didn't, and they slipped into Oneira's gloomy halls in silence.

Meredy was still in awe of the shimmering garnishes that filled these corridors like strange stars, but it had become so familiar to Charla that the magic was almost lost on her. She was more focused on watching Meredy. Who knew what thoughts were turning behind her distant eyes, or what reliving her nightmare in the pool had done to help her—if it even had. What had it made her realise? What had it made her understand?

She wanted to ask, but she couldn't. She wasn't supposed to know. There was nothing for it but to try to forget, to pretend she'd never seen it, and to hope that Meredy would feel better from here on. They were in this together, all of them. She didn't want her to regret this.

"Is there something you're looking for?" Meredy asked some minutes later, as Charla led them almost automatically through the hallways to the stairwell.

Charla paused at the opening to the stairs, and for a split second she had the urge to take Meredy back down to the pool at the base of the tree—just to see what she'd do, what she'd say. But the thought passed quickly and she started up the steps, speaking over her shoulder. "There's a chamber at the top of the tree with all these carvings in it. I just want to check it out again."

Meredy halted abruptly, her claws skittering on the stairs. Charla glanced back.

"The dream records?" she said in a hushed, disbelieving voice. "You've been there?"

"Uh…yeah. I went there the first day we were here. I mean, I was kinda lost, but…"

"Are…are we even allowed there?" Meredy wavered and looked over her shoulder, as if she thought someone might be watching. Her mane was standing on end.

Charla stared at her. "Why wouldn't we be? Pema didn't say anything like that when I was there."

"O-oh. I just thought…" She licked her lips. "It seems like somewhere we shouldn't go. Those carvings are records of their visions. I don't think we're supposed to see them."

"Well, I've already seen them and I'm going to look again," Charla huffed, turning her back on Meredy. "You don't have to come if you don't want to."

And she marched up the steps without waiting for a response. Meredy hung back for half a second, then padded softly after her without trying to catch up. It was a dark and silent climb. Charla's paws tingled with impatience and unease the closer they got, and for the moment Meredy's nightmare was driven from her mind. The Night of Eternal Darkness seemed closer here somehow, and its reemergence in her dreams was an omen like a stormcloud looming overhead.

What secrets would she find amongst the carvings this time? What other dark happenings were written on the walls?

With her heart beating in her ears, she stepped out into the great black chamber. It was just as silent and empty as it had seemed last time, with nought but glowing sap to light the gloom, but Charla didn't want to take any chances. This time she would make sure there were no pangolins lurking in the shadows, out of sight, waiting to frighten her out of her wits.

A string of fire licked from between her teeth and curled itself, tighter and tighter, into a glowing orb of flame. When it was as big and bright as a small and distant sun, she swung her head forward and caught it on her horns. Then she carried it forward, and the chamber flushed with dancing orange light.

Meredy gasped behind her. "A-are you sure you should be doing that? You don't want to disrespect—"

"It's just fire," Charla interrupted, rolling her eyes. "I want to be able to see."

And see she could now that the blackness had fled from her firelight, revealing hundreds upon hundreds of carvings that covered almost every inch of the curved tree walls. There were even some, she saw, that were so high they could only be reached by ladders—but most formed a low, condensed ring closer to the floor. There were no lingering pangolins this time.

Charla padded across the chamber with hunched shoulders, ignoring the nervous sound of Meredy's claws skittering after her. The place seemed somehow smaller now, with the black void banished to the corners, but the unease remained. Her mouth was dry, her paws sweating. The walls almost seemed to be whispering.

"Tell me something," Charla muttered under her breath. "Anything…"

Her eyes raked the nearest carvings, but if she'd hoped to find something immediately, she was disappointed. Nothing jumped out at her. These images didn't mean anything to her. She slouched on.

"Charla?" Meredy whispered, but Charla ignored her.

There was Pema's carving again, the one with the four of them on the forest path, but none of the surrounding pictures reminded her of anything. They were all so abstract, like pointless brush strokes on a blank canvas…

"Charla, why did you want to come here?" Meredy's voice was tiny and anxious, and again Charla paid it no attention. The carvings were dancing in her firelight, as if to peel themselves off the wall and take shape in the real world. She didn't try to look for the Well of Souls again. She'd seen it enough.

"Charla, please. You're worrying me. I really don't think we should be here…"

"I'm looking, alright?" Charla snapped, shooting a harsh look over her shoulder. Meredy wilted but did not back down.

"But for what?" she insisted. "There's nothing here that will tell you anything! Please, Charla, I'm worried about you and this isn't helping. Won't you talk to me instead?"

Worried? _Meredy_ was worried about _her_? Charla stared at her incredulously. "Why are you worried about _me_? You're the one we should be worried about. I'm fine!"

"But you're not!" Meredy stood a little taller, defiance in her eyes. "I'm not stupid, Charla. I know there's something wrong and I know you're trying to hide it. You've been anxious ever since we first got here, since that morning you went off on your own and Pema had to bring you back. Something's wrong and it's _scaring_ you. I can _see_ it. That's why I wanted to come with you now… I thought, if we were alone, you might want to talk about it—you might feel comfortable telling me…"

Heat flooded Charla's face. She hadn't been that obvious—she knew she hadn't! Lance and Nuala hadn't suspected a thing! At least, not since she'd brushed off their questions and concerns on that first morning here…

"You're imagining things," she said quickly, because the idea of telling Meredy about the Night of Eternal Darkness still seemed like a very bad idea. "I just want to hurry up and keep going. My family is captured by the Dark Army, remember? Of course I'm scared!"

"But this is different! Charla, you weren't like this before we came here, and I think—I think it's because something scared you. Something else. Something to do with…this place. Am I wrong?"

Charla clenched her jaw. "Nothing scared me. I just—"

"Then what's wrong?" Meredy stamped her paw, her face flushed in the firelight. "I know I'm not imagining things! You've been exhausting yourself all week with all of this...this _training_ , and whatever it is that you and Nuala are doing in secret, and it's like you're preparing yourself for battle! And you've been jumpy ever since you woke up today, like something's frightened you again. This isn't normal, Charla. I _know_ something is wrong."

"I _am_ preparing for battle!" Charla shot back, bristling with annoyance. "We're going to the _Mountain of Malefor_! I _need_ to be prepared! A-and Nuala and I aren't doing anything, I don't—"

"I'm not blind, Charla! I saw you making plans with her. And I know you've been sneaking out at night; how many times do you think I've woken up to find you both gone from the room? You know I haven't been sleeping well!"

 _That_ threw Charla for a loop. She had been so sure that no one had noticed anything about her secret experiments with Nuala. But Meredy had, and it sounded like she'd known since it started. Why hadn't she said anything until now? Did she know what they were doing? Charla shrank back a step, momentarily lost for words.

Meredy inched closer, her eyes huge, worried, and flickering with fire. "And now it looks like you're trying to steal a glimpse of the future, like all of those travellers who lost themselves in the forest while seeking the Sanghali monks… That isn't how it works, Charla. You can't see the future like you read a book. You're not going to understand anything you find here. You're not thinking straight. Please, _tell_ me what's bothering you."

Charla clenched her paws. Something was rising in her chest and throat, a thrill of panic, a blaze of annoyance. "I told you, it's _nothing_. I don't know what you're talking about. So what if I want to see the future? So what if I'm keeping secrets? You've been keeping secrets too! You disappear every morning without telling anyone, and now you're acting like you know everything about the monks and their dumb visions, so I bet _you've_ been asking them about your future, too!"

"Charla! I-I would never…"

"And it's none of your business what I do with Nuala and Lance! You've been having lessons with Lance, too; you've been preparing for battle, too!"

"That's not—"

"If anyone is scared of anything, it's you! You're so scared you can't sleep properly, so what makes you think _I'm_ the one with the problem?"

"I'm not trying to upset you!" Meredy cried, but Charla was too far gone, too caught up in a mess of indignation, defiance and fear—fear that Meredy would find out, fear that Meredy would tell the others, fear of everything that had bundled up inside her that she couldn't voice aloud.

"Worry about yourself!" she yelled. "You're the one with the problem! You're the one who can't even control your own magic! You're the one who's putting us in danger even when we're supposed to be safe!"

"Charla! _Stop_!"

A gust of wind; an sudden roar of displaced air. Meredy's voice, harsh with anger, was a thrum of rolling thunder in the chamber. Fear impaled itself in Charla's heart. An image of Meredy screaming with rage, surrounded by blood and wind and death, wrenched itself to the forefront of her mind, and Charla threw herself to the floor with her paws over her head.

What was she _doing_? Meredy could kill her! Meredy could tear her apart without even meaning to!

She cowered against the wall, threw her wings up in a feeble attempt to shield herself from the storm—and it was a few seconds before she realised the wind wasn't howling in her ears or ripping at her scales. It had come and gone in the blink of an eye. She was unharmed. But Meredy was babbling.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it! I'm sorry! Are you okay? I didn't– I wasn't– I wasn't going to hurt you, I swear! I swear! Oh, Charla…"

She sank to the ground, and Charla shakily lifted her head—just in time to see the glisten of unshed tears before Meredy swept them away.

"What am I doing?" she choked out. "What's _wrong_ with me? Why am I like this? Oh, Charla, please tell me you're okay. I wasn't trying to scare you—I didn't mean for that to happen. I didn't…"

"I know," Charla said in a small voice. "I'm sorry. It's my fault. I shouldn't have yelled. I don't know why I yelled…"

Meredy pressed her face into her paws and shook her head. Charla's fire orb had dwindled, and the blackness was encroaching upon them again, creeping its cold fingers across the floor. Charla shivered and quickly replenished it. Warm light washed over her paws.

"You're right," Meredy mumbled into her paws. "We both have our secrets, a-and maybe we're not ready to talk about them yet. I shouldn't have pushed you. I-I'm just worried. Just worried…"

Charla swallowed and pushed herself up. "Let's just…forget about it, okay? I just want to look around a bit. It doesn't matter if I don't understand anything. I just want to look."

Meredy stared up at her, eyes huge and jaw quivering, but eventually she nodded. "Alright… If that's what you want. We'll just look."

Then she got to her feet and they awkwardly turned away from each other, still shaken, unspeaking, as if they could pretend that nothing had happened.

Charla's heart was racing and her face was hot. She knew she would have to confront Meredy about this later, that she couldn't just ignore what Meredy knew. She knew there was something that had scared Charla, something Charla refused to admit, and she knew that something was happening between her and Nuala. Charla couldn't ignore that. Nor could she ignore the things that _she_ knew about _Meredy_ —the things that she had seen and heard this morning. She couldn't pretend that had never happened. Sooner or later they would have to talk about it, or risk tearing a jagged rift between them full of secrets and lies and unspoken fears.

But not yet. Not now. Meredy was too unstable, Charla too shaken. For now, all she wanted was a glimpse—a tiny glimpse. Just a hint of the future that awaited her beyond the monastery, whether she understood it or not. Everything else, big or small, could wait.

And so they looked.

They turned their backs on each other and wandered for what felt like hours amongst the pages of the incomprehensible storybook that was carved around the walls. Charla looked and looked, but she found no answers.

There was only one thing that jumped out at her, and that was the unusual abundance of one particular dragon. She didn't know who he was, but she remembered him from the first time she'd come here—a child, just like her, with lightning-bolt horns and a strange insect always by his side. He appeared in many a carving, and she couldn't help but wonder why. What made him so important? Why did the pangolins dream of him so much? Who was he?

But the carvings gave her no answers, and she couldn't hope to piece together his story from them.

Her hope to find something of her own future, too, was dwindling. There was nothing to be found, and she began to think that maybe she just wasn't important enough. She was just one small dragon in a world much bigger than all of them, and why should the pangolins dream of her? What place did she of all dragons have in their visions? She was tiny, insignificant. Perhaps there really was nothing to see.

She paused before a carving of two dragons—one of them the kid with his insect, the other a towering monster that Charla herself had faced before—and gazed into the snarling face of the Terror of the Skies. Was she really gone, like the ape Kafik had said? Could it have anything to do with this kid with the lighting-bolt horns? The idea seemed ridiculous. He was just a kid, whoever he was.

And so was Charla, and she was just about ready to give up. She turned away from the walls with a sigh, tossing her head to send firelight skittering across the dark chamber. Meredy, who had been staring intently at something on the other side of room, jumped and looked back. The glow of crystal sap gave her an eerie golden glow in the darkness.

"Charla?" she said. "Come and look at this."

Something about the lilt of her voice made a thrill ripple down Charla's spine. An ember flared in her chest, and her heart began to race again. She'd found something.

"What is it?" she asked breathlessly, crossing the distance with a leap and a bound. The shadows chased her across the room.

Meredy eyed her anxiously, as if she wasn't sure she should tell her, but then she shook her head and shifted out of the way. "I think…it's you. And—"

"Apes!" Charla cried, catching sight of the carving that Meredy had found, a raw flame of excitement bursting in the hollow of her chest. This was it! This was what she been looking for—proof at last that Jayce and Silverback were alive, that she would find them and they would be together again!

But then she looked again, saw the carving more clearly as her firelight fell over it, and her excitement dwindled. Something was wrong. This wasn't right. Because there were not two apes—there were many.

There was a whole crowd of them—far more than Charla had ever known by name—and carved right in the centre of them, drawn as if she were dancing, was a dragon that looked just like her. She couldn't mistake the sharp forward hook of the horns, the matching tailblade, even the scar that cut across the right side of her ribs. It was her. Surrounded by apes.

Dancing.

"What…" Charla stared and caught her breath, her heart thumping against her ribcage. "What is this supposed to mean? Why are there so many apes? I don't… I don't get it."

"I don't know," Meredy said softly. "I thought, for a second, that it was…something bad. But you don't look like you're in trouble. You look like you're dancing. They all do. You look…happy."

"But why are there so many?" Charla insisted, and her voice cracked as it caught the sudden lump in her throat. "There...there should only be two. There should only be two!"

Her voice flung itself away into the darkness, where it faded into silence without hope of an answer. She swallowed.

And where was everyone else, she wondered. Where were her friends? Lance and Nuala and Meredy… Why was she alone here, among the apes, dancing? What could it possibly mean?

But though she stared at the carving for what felt like hours, she understood nothing.

"I hate apes," she said at last, her feeble voice echoing in the silent chamber. "Th-they're all horrible—all of them except Jayce and Silverback. I _hate_ them! So why am I with them? Why do they look happy? Why are we dancing? I don't understand!"

She stamped her forepaws, scoring the wooden floor with her claws, and the firelight flickered crazily, making the carved apes shift and sway like they really were dancing across the wall, moving to an unheard song. She couldn't even tell if any of them were _her_ apes, or if they were all strangers—all enemies. Her own carven face, cheerful and free, haunted her in a way she couldn't voice. None of this made sense.

"I don't understand," she repeated softly.

"No," whispered Meredy. "Neither do I."


	18. The Secret Ways of Whisperglade

**Chapter 18**

 **The Secret Ways of Whisperglade**

The sun had set, and shadows were deep between the trees, when Charla took her last long look at the Sanghalin Monastery. The monks were gathering in the clearing beyond, stopping only to bow as they came down the stairs and passed their guests, and Charla was shivering. It wasn't just the chill of the nighttime air. Her head was as full as the satchel sitting heavy on her withers, and many of her thoughts were dark and cold.

There was too much she didn't know, and still more that she wished she didn't. Things she didn't understand, things that frightened her… She hadn't been able to look Meredy in the eye for hours now. With the journey looming like a growing shadow ahead, and the endless path still dark and unknown, she wondered if she was even ready to face it.

But Jayce and Silverback were waiting for her. They needed her. And the thought of giving up, of never seeing them again, scared her more than anything.

The cold wind ghosted over her wings and she shuddered. The sky through the gap in the canopy was clear and full of stars; she itched to take flight, to escape from the darkness that festered in the forest depths.

 _You'll feel better when you get moving,_ she told herself, and she hoped it was true.

Nuala was perched on her back, shifting impatiently—and it was when she muttered an emphatic ' _Finally_ ' that Charla pulled her eyes back to earth.

The last of the pangolins had left the monastery, and the sight of them made her scales tingle. A stillness fell over the forest, as if even the breeze was silenced. First came the elder monks, small and stooped, but somehow made larger by the respectful hush that followed wherever they went—and behind them, bearing tall wooden staves crowned with clusters of glowing sap, came five younger monks. At their sides they wore satchels of leaves and bark, and they held their heads high as they marched down the stairwell to the forest floor. Pema was among them. Charla swallowed.

The elder monks stopped before her and bowed their heads. The golden shimmer of crystal sap washed over everyone as the staff-bearing pangolins made a line behind them. Elder Kavi smiled.

"Well met, Children of Qilin. I hope we did not keep you waiting long. Your guides have been chosen, the night is young, and soon must we say our goodbyes. But first, we have something for you."

Only then did Charla notice the parcels of leaf and twine held in their blunt claws. As they presented them, she thought she saw a muted golden glow from inside.

Lance shifted. "You've done more than enough for us already. There's no need for gifts."

Elder Kavi's eyes were warm. "And yet it would bring my old heart ease if you would accept what we have to give you. There is a long journey ahead of you, wherever it is that you roam. Allow us to offer you this, at the very least."

Then he pulled back the twine of his parcel, and the leaves fell open with a shimmer of gold, revealing a glistening handful of perfect amber droplets. Lance faltered, his eyes shining with their light.

"We hope that the sap of the hamadryad will aid you on your journey," said another elder, "and bring you warmth on the coldest of nights."

A sigh fell from Lance's muzzle. "Well, I'd be stupid to refuse an offer like that. Ancestors know we won't be finding any spirit gems where we're going… Thank you. I don't know how we can repay you for this."

Elder Kavi pressed the parcel into his paw. "Not all gifts require payment. Take it and be well. That is all we ask."

Lance bowed his head.

Most of the parcels went into his satchel, but he passed one each along to Charla and Meredy, who took them gratefully. Charla struggled to stuff hers into her satchel, full as it was with her other scant possessions—the ribbon, the statuette, and _Star Tales_ —and Nuala had to help her button it closed.

"Not like you'll need them," she murmured in Charla's ear, and Charla suppressed a nervous grin.

When they were done, the elder monks stepped aside and allowed the staff-bearing pangolins to step forward. Pema offered them a smile that seemed mostly meant for Meredy, who returned it, but Charla felt a twinge of unease. She hadn't forgotten what had happened at the dream pool, and Pema's words still echoed coldly in the recesses of her mind.

"The monks we have chosen to be your guides are strong, youthful and reliable," said Elder Kavi. "They know the forest almost as well as Qilin himself, and they will see you to its borders with utmost swiftness. Still, it will be a three-night journey, so we would do best not to tarry. Are you ready?"

Lance looked at Charla and the others. "I think so. You've got everything, right? If you leave anything behind, I doubt you'll ever see it again."

Charla ran her wing nervously across her satchel. Nuala patted the back of her neck.

"I think we have everything," said Meredy, with one last wistful glance at the towering monastery trees.

Elder Kavi linked his hands and bowed. "Then we shall delay no further. Let us depart while the night is still young."

He and the other elders moved to the head of the crowding monks that had gathered in the clearing. With a wordless gesture, they formed themselves into orderly straight lines and marched away into the forest. Pema gestured for Charla and the others to follow. The five pangolins hefted their staves. And so, surrounded by their guides, they turned their backs on the Sanghalin Monastery for the last time and slipped into the shadow of the trees.

So resumed their long pilgrimage through Whisperglade. There were no goodbyes yet, for the monks of the monastery would stay with them for the first leg of their journey as they took their nightly Alm's Walk, and so it was in great company that they headed back into the forest wilds.

Yet, Charla could not help but think wistfully of lazy evenings in the Great Hall, and some part of her wished they were still there—not facing the long gruelling slog through the forest and beyond. There were still phantom aches in her paws, and she didn't look forward to endless days of trekking through unknown lands. She'd have to hunt again, to worry about finding water and prey and safe places to sleep at night. And soon they'd have to worry about the Dark Army again too, as they made their first steps into ape territory…

She shivered at the thought.

But the night had just begun, and for now they made a leisurely pace through the forest, surrounded by the quiet murmur of whispering voices and robes swishing over leaves. Most of the monks walked in darkness, but Charla and her friends stayed close to their guides and their shining staves, never straying beyond the circle of amber light. The pangolins seemed to know where they were going. Every now and then, they passed trees ringed with silver rope, markings along the edge of an unseen path. The monks were at ease.

But no one was doing any hunting or foraging, Charla noticed. That was what the Alm's Walk was, wasn't it? A hunting trip? They had to get the bugs from _somewhere_. But wherever that somewhere was, it must not have been here.

Charla almost wanted to let her eyes close, surrender to the leaden weights of her eyelids, but she'd bumped into Lance once already and didn't want to do it again. Nuala was swaying on her back. The darkness pressed in around her, as if to remind her that she should be in bed right now, for her mind had not been sated by the restless sleep she'd gotten earlier in the day. But she pushed on, steadily sinking into a stupor of rhythm and golden light. Of footsteps in the leaf litter, wind in the trees, whispers on the air…

Then something appeared in the darkness ahead, and Charla jolted to her senses. She blinked several times, but it did not disappear.

A light. There was a light between the trees.

It was a warm amber light, like a winking eye—and, as she stared, more appeared like fires in the gloom. When she craned her head to see better, she became aware of a distant hum of noise echoing through the forest towards them. The rise and fall of incomprehensible voices, the chatter and laughter of a crowd beyond her sight.

She shook her head. The noise grew louder. It made her think of those days in Earthsoul, of listening to the sounds of city life humming behind the wall, just beyond her reach. But that was impossible. There couldn't be a city here.

These were the wilds of Whisperglade. Uninhabited. Dangerous. _Wild_. Surely no civilized creature would build their village here.

Then the trees parted before her eyes, and she faltered in awe. The monastery had been strange and wonderful, but this was something else.

Everywhere she looked, there were pangolins. They plodded to and fro like creatures on a city street, and the towering trees around them were twisted into the familiar shapes of unmistakable structures—houses and awnings, seats and market stalls. Lanterns hung from every branch, small cages stuffed with crystal sap, which shone as golden stars beneath the canopy. There were children dancing in the litterfall, adults setting up stalls with books and trinkets and woven baskets, and more still meeting on platforms high above the forest floor.

As the first of the elder monks stepped out of the trees, a cry rose up in the street.

"The monks are here! The monks are here!"

There was a flurry of movement. Charla gaped in awe as pangolins of all shapes and sizes lined the sides of the forest street. They scurried down from their platforms, appeared out of dark doorways, hurried up from smaller paths leading away into the darkness. Soon, a veritable crowd had formed to welcome them, humming with excited chatter, each of them carrying some jug or dish or leafen parcel. And as the line of monks began to march down the centre, these pangolins stepped forward.

They wore no clothes, Charla noticed—and she could not stop staring at the huge platelike scales that covered them from head to tail. Each was almost twice the size of her paw, thick and pale, and tapered to a slim point that let them overlap with ease. She wondered if they were sharp. She also thought they made the pangolins look like giant walking pinecones.

Nuala hunched on her back and made a strange hissing noise, but Charla was too busy gaping to worry about her.

"Who are they?" she whispered. "Do they live here?"

She expected Lance to answer, but instead it was Meredy who gave a tiny gentle laugh. Charla's face burned.

"You didn't think the monks were the _only_ pangolins, did you?" Meredy said. "These are the lay-pangolins. There's small villages like this all over Whisperglade, and all the pangolins here live normal working lives—just like dragons and serpents."

"Most of our kind do not choose to be monks," Pema cut in. "It is a strict path few take, to dedicate our lives to the worship of Qilin and the study of clairvoyance. But the lay-pangolins honour us, because we choose this path so that they do not have to. We few dedicate ourselves entirely to Qilin, and in turn he protects us all. That is the way of the monk."

Charla shifted nervously. There was a question on her tongue, but she couldn't bring herself to ask Pema. Instead, she turned a cheek and muttered to Nuala, "Why are they giving the monks their food?"

Because that was what they were doing, or so she had realised. Every dish and jug and parcel held in the claws of a lay-pangolin was full of bugs, and these they tipped into the bowls held by the monks. The monks nodded in thanks each time.

"Beats me," Nuala muttered back, but Meredy overheard.

"It's their offering," she said, "in exchange for the protection that the monks give to them. Monks are not allowed to hunt for their own food. It's forbidden to kill even an insect. And they can't ask or beg, either. They can only take what is freely offered to them."

Pema smiled. "But the lay-pangolins are very generous, and we rarely go hungry."

"Uh…huh." Charla watched in equal parts confusion and amazement as the lay-pangolins scurried forward in turns, strangely eager to offer up their food to the monks. Their faces shone with awe and respect. It wasn't exactly the hunting trip Charla had expected.

But it wasn't long before she and her friends were noticed. Charla met the eyes of a tiny pangolin child, whose scales were small and soft-looking, and suddenly it seemed as though the entire street was whispering. Pangolins paused in the middle of their offerings, some drew back from the path, and all eyes came to rest upon the dragons, the serpent, and the scowling vulpala.

"Dragons…" said the whispers, rolling up and down the street.

"Why are they here?" said others. "Why do they walk with the monks?"

"Dragons in Whisperglade? And a sky serpent on the ground?"

"There is an illusionist with them…"

"Who are they?"

Charla swallowed and sidestepped closer to Lance. She could hear a low growl thrumming in the base of Nuala's throat, her thin claws digging into Charla's scales. Lance was frowning.

"The dragons and their friends are our guests," Pema called to the whispering crowd. "They seek passage through the forest, and we are taking them to its border."

The whispers grew louder. Lay-pangolins drew back to murmur to their fellows, some inched forward to gaze at Charla and her friends with wide eyes, and a few daring children darted onto the street to look up close and try to touch their scales. Lance allowed one to brush its blunt claws across his foreleg, and the young pangolin darted back to its friends with a giggling squeal.

But Charla noticed with great unease that not all the eyes that followed them were friendly. She caught the venomous glare of an older pangolin before he turned his back on the monks and vanished into the crowd; she watched an angry mother pull her child away, ignoring his cries of protest. And she was not deaf to the whispers that rose around her.

"Dragons in our forest? I don't like it. I heard that everywhere they go they spread war…"

"The monks are putting themselves at risk, sheltering _dragons_."

"Get them out of our forest and our village! They're not welcome here."

Charla hunched her shoulders. Meredy looked pained.

"Do not mind them," Pema murmured, though her eyes were troubled. "They are sheltered, anxious creatures, and they have heard both too much and too little about the war beyond our borders. It frightens them."

"It frightens us, too," Lance grunted. "But I'm not surprised. Dragons haven't exactly made the best name for themselves amongst other sapiens… Not now, and not before the war, either. They're blind to everything except themselves."

Pema eyed him with a sort of grim amusement. "You speak as if you weren't a dragon yourself."

Lance snorted.

"They can all bugger off, if you ask me," Nuala hissed in Charla's ear. "It's not like _we_ did anything to them."

Charla nodded slowly but said nothing. The glares of the lay-pangolins unnerved her more than she cared to admit. She'd never had someone dislike her just for being a _dragon_ before. At least, someone who wasn't an ape…

What would they think, she wondered, if they knew she had been raised by apes?

And what did they think of the apes themselves? Did they know of the horrible things that the apes had done to dragons outside the borders of the forest? About the ruined cities, the refugees, the massacre of unborn children?

Somehow, she doubted it. Even _she_ hadn't known, until fate had thrust her out of her sheltered childhood and into this world of war.

A lay-pangolin stepped forward and offered his parcel of bugs to Pema. "Take these for your journey. It's a long pilgrimage to the edge of Whisperglade and back. May Qilin keep you safe."

Pema thanked him with a nod of her head and slipped the parcel into her satchel. The lay-pangolin eyed Charla and Lance with steely distrust, then turned away. Nuala hissed at him. More soon followed his lead, presenting their offerings to the monks that would make the journey to the borders of the forest, murmuring prayers and well-wishes for their safety. Charla tried not to notice the way they looked at her.

"How do they even survive here?" Nuala growled beside her head. "You'd think the giant snakes would have eaten them all by now. ...Wish they had."

Charla grimaced, and Meredy gave her a reproachful look.

"Haven't you noticed the wards?" she said sharply to Nuala. "The ropes on the trees? They're not just markers. They're woven with a kind of magic that repels predators. And even if something did make it through, the pangolins are masters of staying hidden. Look around you. This village can disappear in the blink of an eye."

Nuala huffed and grumbled something, but Charla was curious enough to try to figure out what Meredy meant. And as she stared at the houses and stalls around her, she began to realize. Everything about this village had been carved with such care and subtlety that it seemed, in a way, that it would fade back into the forest if she only blinked and looked away. If the lanterns were not there, and the pangolins were gone, those houses would become normal trees. That doorway, a slim crack in a trunk. That platform, a mere low-hanging bough. That awning, a cluster of tangled branches.

If she had walked here in the daytime, when the pangolins were asleep, she doubted she would have known there was a village here at all. It was hidden, perfectly, in plain sight.

But soon they had reached the end of the village street, and the lay-pangolins called out in farewell and warning as the monks trailed away once more into the dark and wild forest. Charla looked back until they were out of sight and only the sparkle of their lanterns shimmered in the near distance.

Here, at last, the monks came to a stop. Pema and the guides led their guests to the front of the line, where the elder monks were waiting for them.

"Here we must part ways at last, Children of Qilin," said Elder Kavi. "We must return to our monastery, and you must continue your journey to wherever it is that you go. Your guides will see you safely to the edge of Whisperglade. May Qilin speed you on your way."

The other elders added their farewells.

"May your journey be kind to you."

"May you find warmth on winter nights."

"May Qilin guide you safely wherever you go."

"May darkness never blind you to the path that you take."

They all bowed their heads. Lance and Meredy did the same.

"We can't thank you enough for all that you've done for us," Lance said. "We'd still be wandering lost in the forest—or worse—if you hadn't found us and let us stay. I hope you stay safe and the war never touches your forest."

Nuala huffed. Charla shuffled her paws but couldn't think of anything to say. Meredy, too, seemed choked up; her eyes were glistening, and all she managed to murmur was, "Thank you for everything. May Qilin be with you."

"And with you." Elder Kavi inclined his head. There was a short pause before he addressed Pema and the other staff-bearing monks. "We hope that your journey to the edge of the forest will be swift and free of danger. Do not linger, do not falter. Qilin is with you."

Pema and the others nodded. "Thanks be to you and to Qilin, Elder. We shall return soon."

Then the entire line of monks bowed and straightened, and their voices lifted in a cry like a song—but not of any words that Charla understood. The scales on the back of her neck prickled and stood on end, and her heart fluttered in her chest as the song rose to the treetops and faded into the dark. Pema lifted her staff and turned to face the road ahead. The others turned with her.

And with the voices of the monks lifting them like birds on a warm and coaxing wind, they set out into the wild forest, never to look back.

* * *

"The path should start somewhere around here, if I remember correctly…"

They hadn't gone very far, but already Pema had called a stop. She and the other monks had spread out across the forest floor and seemed to be inspecting the tree trunks for something, but Charla couldn't imagine what. She stood between Lance and Meredy and watched with bemusement, while Nuala yawned loudly on her back. The vulpala had calmed down a lot since they'd left most of the pangolins behind.

"What are you even looking for?" she snipped, leaning on Charla's horns. "You can't be lost _already_. Just pick the right direction and go! Some guides you are…"

"It's not that simple." Pema looked over her shoulder, lifting her staff so that its light played across her face. "It's not safe to take the ground road, not beyond the wards. We must take the upper paths."

"The what?" Charla whispered to Nuala, who shrugged.

Lance nudged her. "Leave them be. They know what they're doing."

"Yeah. Sure," Nuala scoffed.

But they didn't have to wait very long at all before one of the pangolins called out and waved them over. As they picked their way over the muddy leaf litter, Charla peered at the enormous tree where the monk stood waiting. It looked, to her eyes, like all of the other enormous trees around them—from its ash-grey bark to the moss creeping along its exposed roots. It wasn't until she got closer that she noticed something else.

Slicing through its sturdy trunk, disguised by the jagged pattern of its bark, was a huge dark crack. Charla didn't think she'd have noticed it if she hadn't been looking. But it was as tall as a dragon and as wide as two pangolins abreast, and she felt like she could step through it and disappear into its blackness. She squinted but couldn't see inside.

"Oh, good," said Pema, resting her staff against her shoulder. "We were not far off. Up we go, then. I can take the lead."

And she marched into the split in the tree trunk without another word. The blackness would have swallowed her entirely, but instead it shied away from the glow of her staff—and Charla caught a brief glimpse of what looked like stairs inside. She blinked. The other monk gestured for her to follow.

"Sister Pema will show you the way," he said.

But Charla hesitated, reluctant to walk so close to Pema, and instead it was Meredy who slipped through first. Only then, with Nuala urging her forward, did Charla follow. They passed through the split in the tree without touching its edges, and in the dim golden light they found the bottom of a long winding staircase. It was rough and uneven and carved from solid wood, but it seemed sturdy enough. Pema had already climbed up several steps, with Meredy close behind.

"Up you come," Pema called, using her staff to usher them forwards.

Charla hesitated and looked back. "Will we all fit?"

She was thinking of Lance and his wide-set shoulders, but she needn't have worried. He followed immediately after her, and though he had to tuck his wings close and suck in a breath, he squeezed through without much of a problem. By then there wasn't much room left inside the hollow of the tree, so Charla made her way up the steps with Nuala swaying on her back. Pema held her staff forwards to light the way.

Around and around the tree they went, stumbling on gnarled whorls of wood that stuck out from the steps, and their only light was Pema's crystal sap bobbing like a firefly somewhere above them. Lance's heavy footsteps thumped slowly behind them, and when Charla looked back, she could see his burly form highlighted by the glow of the other monks' staves. Every breath brought with it earthy scents of musk and damp wood. Up and up they went, and Charla didn't stop wondering where they were going. Up to the treetops? Above the canopy?

 _The upper paths_ , Pema had said…

Then, at last, fresh air. Charla breathed in and stumbled out through another jagged opening in the tree trunk, and there she froze in Pema's light, her heart jumping.

Leaves tickled her scales. Wind whispered around her head. The path swayed beneath her. And though she couldn't see the forest floor in the darkness, she knew on instinct that it was very far below her.

The canopy stretched like a low ceiling over her; she could have jumped and grabbed a pawful of leaves. But she didn't dare make any sudden movements. The path creaked and swayed with every shifted paw, and even with wings Charla felt deeply unsteady. Nuala's claws were digging into her again.

It was a bizarre path, she thought, gazing past Meredy and Pema into the inky gloom. It reminded her of the bridges back at the monastery, like branches linked together and made into a solid walkway, which weaved snakelike through the treetops and into the distance. The only things stopping her from stepping over the edge and falling to earth were more branches, like a tangled cage around her. The leaves rattled in the breeze. If she craned her head, she could see pockets of stars glinting through the canopy.

"Welcome to the upper paths," said Pema, "the secret ways of Whisperglade. They exist all over the forest, and they should see us almost all of the way to Lake Qilin without the need to touch the ground. For pangolins, and for you, they are the safest paths in the forest."

Charla inched forward, splaying her claws out for balance as Nuala clutched her by the horns. Somehow, Meredy seemed perfectly at ease, and she gazed into the canopy with wonder in her eyes.

"Right…" said Nuala slowly, her voice coloured with suspicion. "How are we any safer up here?"

"Many of Whisperglade's most dangerous predators do not bother climbing trees in search of prey," said Pema. "This is the best way for us to go unnoticed."

Nuala made a small scoffing noise. "What about the giant snakes?"

Pema, who had started moving along the path, glanced over her shoulder. "The stromslang do not usually concern themselves with small creatures like us. They seek larger prey. But we will be cautious still. Even up here, Whisperglade is no friendly grove. It is the wild, and we are in it."

And she moved on with a flick of her staff, lighting the way through the treetops. Meredy followed without a word, but Charla glanced back to make sure Lance was behind her, and only then did she work up the nerves to step forward.

They walked in single file for the rest of the night, with Pema at the head, the other monks behind, and Charla and her friends safely enclosed between them. It was a long, dark walk, and as the hours came and passed, Charla found herself longing both for sleep and for sunlight. She could see very little beyond the pool of dim light from the monks' staves, and the forest below her was as black as ink and deep as the void. She tried not to look down too much.

But there was little else to see or do—until the wee hours of the morning, when her head was nodding and she was wondering just where and when they were going to sleep. That was when, from the deep and distant darkness, she heard a faint thundering of hooves. She picked up her head and gazed into the gloom below—and there between the faraway trees, she saw a creature.

Its legs were long and slender, its antlers like saplings blossoming with the first flowers of spring. And the only reason she could see it was because it glowed with an earthy, ethereal light, which blazed even in the deepest dark. It leapt through the forest with grace and poise, leaving trails of glowing magic curling in its wake. The trees shivered as it passed. Something inside her lifted and bloomed.

And then, in the blink of an eye, it was gone.

Charla faltered and stared, her heart thumping in her chest. A faint tingle of magic sizzled on her tongue. But when she turned her head to ask if Nuala had seen it too, she found the vulpala had dozed off on her back. Her shoulders fell.

She didn't bother asking Lance, who was well behind her. Instead, she steadied Nuala with her wings, broke into a trot to keep up with Meredy and Pema, and said nothing of it to anyone.

The glow of dawn was just beginning to seep through the canopy when they stopped to sleep. Pema led them off the high paths and into an opening in the side of a grand tree, where they found a stairwell like the one they'd climbed earlier. There were many stairways to the upper paths, she said.

They slept in the hollow of the tree that day, crammed in together at the base of the stairs. Though Charla was glad to sleep, she awoke long before the pangolins did, when the sun was still high and light was bleeding through cracks in the trunk. Feeling sore, stuffy and cramped, she wriggled free from her sleeping friends, stepped over the pangolins—who were curled up so tightly they were practically spheres—and slipped out into the sun.

The first thing she saw was Meredy. She was sitting by the roots of the tree, her head tipped back in a thin shaft of sunlight. Charla froze. She hadn't even noticed that Meredy wasn't asleep with the others. But here she was—and once more, unexpectedly, they were alone.

She blinked and smiled at Charla. "Good morning. Or…afternoon, I suppose. I was just getting a bit of fresh air and sunlight. It's hard being nocturnal, isn't it?"

For a second, Charla stared gormlessly at her. Yesterday was still fresh in her mind, and she couldn't imagine how Meredy could still look at her and smile so easily. They may as well have never argued.

"Um…yeah," she said, scuffing the earth. "I thought I would sleep all day, but I guess not."

"It's not exactly normal for us." Meredy exhaled softly and tipped her head back again. Her mane drifted in the faintest breeze. Charla eyed her curiously. It didn't look like the usual bad dreams had woken her. There were no more dark patches under her eyes, the gauntness had faded from her face, and she looked as though she'd slept well again.

Did that mean her nightmares had stopped? Charla didn't dare ask.

But she couldn't think of anything else to say, and so they sat in silence for several minutes, listening to the wind in the leaves far above them. Charla wondered how deep in the forest they were, and how close to the lake. The canopy was thick overhead, leaving few gaps for the sun to break through, and once again she was starting to miss the sky. But it was strangely peaceful now, as if all the creatures of the forest were, like the pangolins, fast asleep.

Charla shifted restlessly. Just for something to do, she summoned fire into her claws and weaved it around her paw.

There was a lot on her mind. After yesterday, she'd decided to forget about the carving they'd found on the wall—the one with the dancing apes. There was no point wondering about a question that had no answers. But the Night of Eternal Darkness was a different story.

She hadn't dreamed of the Well of Souls since yesterday, but she had a feeling that wasn't the last time it would visit her in sleep. She didn't want to know why. Maybe it was a warning. Maybe Pema was right and she was just sensitive to the shift in mana caused by the approaching eclipse.

Or maybe she was leading everyone to their doom.

She wished she could stop thinking about it. But the rest of her thoughts were not much better. Meredy's unstable magic, the memory she should not have seen, the secret she and Nuala were keeping… She grimaced and stretched her fire so taut that it burst in a spray of embers.

Meredy flinched. "Charla? Listen… About what happened yesterday…"

Charla tensed and hunched her shoulders. Oh no. She wasn't ready to talk about this now. But to her surprise, the first thing that burst from Meredy's lips was an apology.

"I'm sorry I got frustrated with you," she said, "and raised my voice, and…that other thing. I just… Well, what I mean is that I understand if there's things you don't feel ready to talk about yet. I have that too. And…"

She trailed off, averting her eyes. Charla twisted her tail.

"W-what I'm trying to say," Meredy said at last, her face turning pink, "is that I hope you know you can talk to me whenever you need to. You can tell me anything, a-and I won't judge you. I hope you know that. I want to be someone that you feel comfortable coming to, and if there's anything I can do to help you feel that way, you can tell me. I'll listen. I promise."

Charla stared up at her, momentarily amazed. A flood of warmth swelled in her chest, but it curdled uncomfortably as the memory of what she'd seen in the dream pool reasserted itself. The deadly storm; the uncontrollable magic. She couldn't pretend it didn't scare her, that it didn't bring forth awful images of herself and Nuala and Lance torn apart by Meredy's unchecked power.

She _wanted_ to trust Meredy. She wanted to feel like she could tell her anything—like she'd felt back in Earthsoul. Meredy was sweet and kind and understanding in ways that Lance and Nuala were not. But there was a hidden rage inside of her, one that she couldn't control, and that scared Charla more than she could say. She turned her eyes to the leaf litter.

"Thanks… I'll think about it," she said. And she would. She wanted to. But there was something else she had to ask. "Are you still going to have lessons with Lance?"

"I…" Meredy hesitated. "Yes. I have to. I know they haven't been going very well lately, a-and I know I'm taking all of his free time, but… But I need to do this. It's my fault things haven't been going well. I'm going to try to fix that."

Charla looked back to her, a little surprised. "What do you mean?"

Meredy's face went pink again. "W-well, I talked with the monks yesterday and they... helped me realize something. They showed me that I need to change the way I've been thinking lately. So I'm going to try. I want to fix what went wrong with my magic. I've been scared of it for a long time, but… It's part of me. Lance is right. This is my magic, and it wants to come back. And I can either embrace it or…fight it. And fighting it hasn't worked very well so far…

"I've got to learn to control it again. I have to."

Charla nodded slowly, but she didn't know whether to feel glad or afraid. She _could_ control it, couldn't she? She wouldn't just…explode suddenly and destroy everything. Right?

Silence again. Meredy shifted uncomfortably.

"Charla?" she said again, some moments later. "Are you…? I-I mean…" She sighed. "I really do want to help you, you know. At least, I hope you know. I want to be there for you. I want to help you get your family back. But I don't know how much help I can be. I just… I hope you don't regret letting me come with you."

Charla winced. Some part of her was still surprised that Meredy _hadn't_ decided to stay behind, with the pangolins. She'd seemed happy there. And though Charla was relieved, despite her fears, that Meredy hadn't left her, she couldn't stop thinking about what she'd said to Pema.

' _I shouldn't have come. I should have gone to Mistral…'_

Charla clenched her jaw and averted her eyes. The words left her mouth before she could rethink them.

"I won't regret it as long as _you_ don't."

Meredy uttered a tiny gasp. Charla froze.

She shouldn't have said that. She wasn't supposed to know about Meredy's doubts. But it was too late to take the words back now, and Charla didn't have the guts to turn around and see the look on Meredy's face. Instead, she jolted to her feet and turned back to the hollow tree, saying hurriedly, "I-I'm gonna get some more sleep."

Meredy didn't try to follow. She didn't say anything, either, and Charla slipped back into the shade of the tree without another word.

* * *

Dusk fell, and they moved on. The pangolins were eager to make good time, so they lingered only shortly to eat of the dried bugs that had been packed for the trip. After that, it was back to the upper paths and on into the darkness.

Once again, Charla made sure Meredy stayed between her and Pema, just so she wouldn't have to be close to the pangolin. The memory of her angry voice still made her feel small and foolish. No one had ever yelled at her the way Pema had—except perhaps Lance, when he'd caught up with her after her ill-thought-out escape from Warfang, and the thought of that still made her cringe. She didn't want him or anyone to know she'd made yet another stupid, insensitive mistake like that. She especially didn't want Meredy to know.

But Pema knew, and she was the only one who did, and that was more than enough to put Charla on edge. She wished Pema hadn't come with them. Her only comfort was that soon they would be out of the forest—and then, with any luck, they would never have to see Pema again.

Until then, Charla just had to stay out of her way and hope she didn't do anything else to get on Pema's bad side.

It was another long, slow night. Charla was wide awake and restless, and she had forgotten her fear of the black drop below the path—and it was perhaps because of this that she started to take more notice of the forest itself. They had missed it when they'd first stepped foot into Whisperglade, travelling mostly by day, but the forest at night was a lively place. It seemed as though every creature under the canopy came alive when the sun went down, transforming the forest into a menagerie of strange and wonderful beasts.

There were birds in every tree, or so it felt—birds almost as big as she was, with deep-green feathers and glowing eyes; birds that hooted and howled in the night, but never let themselves be seen. There were lizards in the leaves, some small and shimmering like the ones in the monastery, others as long as her foreleg, with a tendency to disappear without a trace right before her eyes. Several times, she thought she heard huge animals tramping and prowling through the undergrowth, but they were so far below that she never caught a glimpse of them.

Close to midnight, when they paused for a short rest, a strange snuffling sound made her look down into the inky void. She could hear thumping footsteps on the ground, but she couldn't decide if they were made by hooves or paws. Pema swung over staff over the edge of the path, startling her.

"Look," she whispered to Meredy, who was walking close behind her. "It's a taperra. There must be a pool nearby. Usually you only see them near water."

Charla shuffled a bit closer to the edge and looked down. In the spreading light of Pema's staff, she could just make out the huge pig-like animal below her. It had a hunched, hulking body as big as a full-grown dragon, and a long, sort of wiggly nose. Clumps of moss and low-growing plants grew straight out of its silver-grey fur, and there was even what looked like a sapling sprouting from its rump. It snorted and snuffled with every step.

Meredy shifted uneasily.

"It's not dangerous, is it?" she whispered, and Pema chuckled.

"It's herbivorous. And, even if it wasn't, it couldn't hope to climb a tree. We're perfectly safe."

Even so, Meredy seemed relieved when they moved on and left the snuffling beast behind, and Charla quietly agreed. The creatures of Whisperglade made her feel small and frail in comparison.

Only a few hours later, as they began to approach the end of another long night, she was made to feel that way again. Pema halted abruptly in the middle of the path and, without a word, fished a tightly woven cloth out of her satchel and draped it over the head of her staff. At once, its glow was stifled. Meredy started, and Charla jumped. But when she opened her mouth to ask what was going on, Pema hushed her.

Feeling nervous, Charla turned her head. Nuala was sitting on her back again, and she didn't look particularly happy, either. Her ears were flat on her head. In the back, behind Lance, the other monks were copying Pema. One by one, the lights on their staves went out, and then all of them were in darkness.

"Quietly now," Pema murmured. "There is a stromslang ahead. I doubt it will concern itself with us, but we should strive not to attract its attention nonetheless."

She beckoned with her thick, blunt claws, and moved forward. Meredy wavered, glanced back at Charla with nervous eyes, and then very carefully picked her way after Pema. Charla hesitated before following. Nuala's paws were tense against the base of her neck. They walked slowly and without noise.

As her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she was able to make out of the shapes of the trees surrounding them. And there, draped in the thick branches not far from the path, was a colossal snake. She couldn't see its head or its tail, but its scales glistened in the moonlight piercing the canopy, and there was no mistaking those huge muscled coils. The breath caught in her throat; her heart began to race.

But Pema moved forward without hesitation, and it was this quiet confidence that made Charla force her legs to work. She slunk after Meredy, never taking her eyes off the snake, feeling Nuala's shallow breaths on the back of her head. It looked liked it was sleeping—at least, she hoped it was. Maybe it had already eaten that taperra creature they'd seen earlier, and was now slowly digesting its enormous meal. She really hoped so.

Fears or no fears, they passed the stromslang without attracting its attention, and Charla never even saw it twitch. Still, she was jittery with nerves by the time Pema decided it was safe to uncover her staff again. Its soft golden light washed over them like a warm bath, easing Charla's racing heart, and Meredy uttered an audible sigh.

"Bloody hell," Nuala muttered in Charla's ear. "I can't wait till we're outta this freaky place."

Charla couldn't agree more.

As dawn broke, they spent another cramped day in the base of a carved-out tree, and again Charla found herself awake long before the setting of the sun. She went outside and paced restlessly between its roots, until Nuala came out to join her and they spent a little while whispering about what would happen after they left the forest. Lance hadn't said anything about his plan yet, and Charla wondered if he even had one. She was starting to think they'd just have to wing it when they got to the lake.

Nuala was concerned about finding time to practice their magic-sharing without the others finding out, but Charla figured they'd do that on the fly as well. She had too much to worry about already—though Meredy hadn't approached her again since their awkward conversation of the day before.

Come nightfall, the pangolins offered them another light breakfast—or was it dinner?—and then ushered them back up to the high paths. This was their third night on the move, and Charla was sure they must be getting close.

Three nights, the elder monks had said. They couldn't be far from the lake now.

But the forest was as deep as ever, and as the night progressed with no sign of thinning trees, Charla began to worry. She was getting claustrophobic. Her wings ached to fly, and she wished for open skies and hazy sunlight. The nights seemed to last forever when she wasn't sleeping, and the endless darkness was slowly eating away at her. She wanted to see. She wanted to be free.

She needn't have worried. Late in the night, when her eyelids were leaden and morning was not far off, she began to notice a difference in the forest around her. It was as if she could see better all of a sudden, like there was more light breaking through the canopy and the trees were not so close together. There were great gaps in the leafy ceiling, too; open windows to a sky full of stars.

"We can't be far off," she heard Lance say behind her. "Feel the breeze?"

"Yes," Meredy called back, "you're right. The trees are thinning."

Charla's heart leapt. She picked up the pace, but there was only so much she could do without overtaking Meredy and Pema, and there wasn't much room for that on the path.

The small hours of the morning passed slowly, and the forest grew lighter with every one. Soon, Charla began to see tongues of milky sunlight lancing through the trees ahead. Her paws tingled. They were almost there. They were almost free.

Then Pema stopped.

"The edge of the forest is not far from here," she called down the line. "But the sun is rising and we must rest. We'll continue at dusk."

A hot, indignant fire flooded into Charla's face. She didn't _want_ to rest. She didn't even care that Pema might get mad at her again. The words burst from her mouth almost before she could think. "But I want to keep going! We're almost there! _Please_? I want to see the sun!"

Pema looked down at her with something akin to surprise, but then her face warmed. "You really cannot deprive a daywalker too long of sunlight, I see. Very well, then. We will carry on and sleep once we reach the treeline."

She hoisted her staff again and addressed the other monks, who called back their agreement. Charla's cheeks burned with embarrassed relief. But instead of turning around to continue along the upper path—which, Charla noticed abruptly, had branched off in an entirely different direction—Pema headed into the mouth of a nearby stairway-tree. With some confusion, Charla followed behind Meredy.

"Why aren't we taking the upper path anymore?" she whispered to Meredy as they wound down to the forest floor.

"I think it ends here," Meredy murmured back. "It looked like it turned towards the western side of the forest. I suppose it doesn't go all the way to the treeline…"

Nuala, on Charla's back as always, leaned against her horns. "Guess we'll be walking on the ground from here on, then."

And so they did. With no more need to walk in single file, they spread out between the trees and travelled alongside one another. The light was growing brighter in the distance, and soon Charla began to shiver with impatience. She shrugged Nuala off her shoulders.

"Race you!" she cried, and she didn't wait for an answer before darting ahead like an arrow from a bow. Her legs stretched, her wings flexed, and she ran with wild abandon through the trees, relishing in the scent of fresh air whipping around her face. With a bark of laughter, Nuala soared over her head.

"Charla! Kid! Hey!" Lance yelled after them, but Charla didn't care to stop. She wanted to run, so she ran.

Past the trees, into the light, over scraggly underbrush and damp leaf litter, she ran like there were wings on her paws and fire in her belly. Nuala flew ahead of her and she couldn't hope to keep up, but she didn't care. She felt like she was made of air.

And when she at last broke through the treeline and sunlight burst before her eyes, she felt like she had been reborn. The long dark night had ended. Day was breaking.

Breathless with laughter and exertion, she skidded to a halt in the grass, and found herself gazing out over a lake as big as the ocean. It stretched so far beyond her sight that she couldn't hope to see the other side, where the water met the sky in a sharp unbroken line. To the east, a row of craggy hills rose into the distance, and between their pointed peaks appeared the golden eye of the rising sun, which spread its fire across the surface of the lake and into the sky.

Nuala twirled above her head. "We made it, Char! We did it! We got through the forest!"

And Charla laughed and danced in circles, because she was right. They had made it through the forest. They had made it to Lake Qilin.

And that meant, at long last, they were halfway there.


	19. Apes on the Move

**Chapter 19**

 **Apes on the Move**

All that day, they stayed at the edge of the forest. While the pangolins slept in the shadow of the trees, Charla and her friends did their best to stay awake because Lance insisted they should fix their sleeping schedules. It wasn't easy after staying up all night, but, at the same time, Charla was brimming with such good mood that she could hardly sit still. At one point she jumped into the lake and splashed in the shallows, even though the water was freezing and snow sparkled on the eastern hills.

While Lance and Meredy took a long walk around the bank, no doubt to talk about magic and lessons, Charla and Nuala lounged in the grass and pointed out cloud shapes—and whispered about their secrets and plans.

"It's good you've got that sap stuff, actually," Nuala said between thoughts. "You can pretend you're using that instead of absorbing from me. You know, in case Lance gets nosy."

"What do you think he'll do if he finds out?" Charla wondered aloud, and Nuala scoffed.

"I'd rather not find out, if you don't mind."

And when Charla thought about the way that Lance reacted to anything risky or abnormal, she decided that Nuala was probably right. She didn't mention anything about Meredy, though. Maybe if she ignored the fact that Meredy knew they were up to something, she would forget about it. Meredy had more important things to worry about anyway.

By the time the sun was setting, they'd made it through the day with minimal napping and Charla's eyelids were heavy as stones. She felt like, if she sat down for even a second, she'd fall straight to sleep. That was why she was pacing in circles when the pangolins finally rose from their slumber.

Night was spreading across the land, though it was not nearly as deep or engulfing as it had been in the depths of Whisperglade, and the starlit skies were clear and bright. Pema and the four other monks hefted their staves and plodded out to meet them beyond the edge of the trees. A few of them gazed over the lake and the distant hills with eyes full of wonder, as if they'd never seen such things before. Maybe they hadn't. They'd lived all their lives in the forest, after all.

Pema smiled at Charla and her friends, her eyes glowing with amber light. "So here at last we part ways, Children of Qilin. Your time as guests of Whisperglade has come to an end. I hope you are not sad."

"Relieved, in a way," said Lance with a wry smile. "We're not exactly made for forest life. But thank you for everything, Sister Pema. You're the reason we even made it this far. I don't know where we'd be if you hadn't found us."

She waved a hand. "It was more than just me, Lance. Qilin himself had a hand—or perhaps I should say a hoof—in our meeting. It was he who led me to you. Wherever it is that you go, I believe that your journey is an important one, if Qilin himself wants you to see it to its end. That is a hopeful thought, especially as you head into dangerous lands."

Lance nodded slowly, the smile falling from his face. "We'll be okay. There's a long road ahead of us, but…we've got each other. We'll make it. And I'm sorry we can't tell you more."

Pema shook her head. "It's none of my business. Your journey is your own. I only wish you good luck and safe travels."

Then she smiled at each of them in turn, though her eyes lingered for a few seconds too long on Charla, and Charla didn't think she imagined the way her smile faltered. Charla shuffled her paws and looked away. Nuala glared. But then Pema's gaze shifted and, when it fell on Meredy, the sky serpent trembled.

In a small voice, she murmured, "I want to thank you too, Pema. For…for everything you've done for me, especially. It's been so wonderful and humbling to spend time with you and learn the ways of the monk. I'm very glad to have met you."

"And I you," Pema said. "You have been a delightful guest, Meredy, child of the sky. May your journey bring you all the fulfilment that you seek. And may Qilin be with you."

Meredy dipped her head. "And with you."

"Qilin be with you," the other monks murmured together, bowing and rising in short order, and Charla wondered if they felt awkward at all. She didn't even know their names.

There was a short silence, until Pema hoisted her staff and stood tall. "It is time, then. We have a long walk back to the monastery, and you have a journey that is waiting to begin. Go with good fortune and be safe. Farewell, Children of Qilin."

"Farewell, monks of the Sanghali," Lance responded.

The pangolins gave one more bow, held their staves high, and like wraiths in the night glided back into the darkness of the forest. The trees swallowed them almost entirely, except for the dancing light of their golden crowns, which pranced away into the shadows like the final embers of a dying flame. And then, at last, they were gone.

Charla wasn't sorry to see them go.

Meredy exhaled shakily, and Lance plodded towards the treeline.

"Let's get some sleep," he called over his shoulder. "We'll head out first thing tomorrow."

"But which way are we going?" Charla asked, bounding after him.

He grimaced. "I'll tell you in the morning. Let's just sleep first, okay? You look like you're dead on your feet—and I feel it."

Right on cue, Charla yawned loudly. Lance smirked and draped a wing over her shoulders, guiding her into the trees. The pangolins were gone, the forest was behind them, and tomorrow the journey would begin anew. But first, what she needed most was a good, long sleep.

* * *

She was standing at the edge of the lake.

The skies were dark, but the celestial moons cast twin lines of fire across the surface of the water, pale green, blazing red. Far in the distance, where it rose to meet the sky, the ghostly image of a lone mountain peak appeared like a spectre from the fog.

The longer she stared, the clearer it became. The world around her blurred and shifted beneath her feet, and then she was flying across the land without so much as a lifted paw or an unfurled wing. The ground raced by beneath her, speeding her across the lake, over a winding snake-like river, through muggy marshlands and a dead dry land where the earth rose in great tables of solid rock. And then the mountain itself was before her, roaring like a stone beast into her path, its jagged slopes oozing with the poisonous green residue of unnatural magic.

The red moon engulfed its twin, a blaze of purple magic erupted from the mountain's jaws, and yet again Charla jolted awake with a racing heart.

For a split second, she was surprised to find herself sleeping on the ground, tucked under Lance's wing, with the sun blazing in her eyes. But then she remembered what had happened yesterday, and she wriggled free to gaze out over the lake. They'd really made it. They were through the forest.

But the nightmares hadn't left her.

Swishing her tail in agitation, Charla paced through the grass towards the edge of the water. The sun had already risen to the peaks of the eastern hills, and the day was turning out to be fair and cold. The winter breeze skipped merrily across the lake and set ice into her wings. She shivered. She'd almost forgotten about the turn of the seasons; Whisperglade didn't seem to care for it.

Charla gazed over the lake to the sharp southern horizon—but, unlike in her dream, there was no sign of the Well of Souls. It was too far away, and it would be weeks of travel before they were even close enough to sight it.

Even so, as she stood there gazing into the distance, she had the strangest feeling that she didn't need to see it. She didn't need a map to show her the way or a guide to point her in the right direction. Somehow, inexplicably, she just _knew_.

She felt it like a tugging in her gut—a sixth sense somewhere inside her that pulled her towards the mountain. And even when she turned away she felt it there, pulsing inside of her, pulling her back, like the needle on a compass always fighting to point north.

It was a longing, a yearning. It made her stomach churn.

"It doesn't mean anything," she insisted to herself, pacing along the lake's sandy bank. "It doesn't mean anything."

The Night of Eternal Darkness was still months away, or so Charla had decided to believe. She had plenty of time.

And besides, who knew what would even happen then, if it did happen sooner? Strange magic, restless spirits? Why should she worry about _those_ things?

It had nothing to do with her. It couldn't affect _her_.

Unbidden, Pema's voice echoed eerily inside her head.

 _Stay far away from that place, that Well of Souls. Dark things will happen there, and no fool would dare to walk its halls when the celestial moons eclipse._

 _Do not let it guide you like a moth to a flame…_

Charla shuddered and ceased her pacing. "It doesn't mean anything. It _doesn't_."

Then she sat down with a bump and refused to think any more of it.

She was dozing in the sand, thinking about Jayce and the great story she'd have to tell him when they were together again, when her friends stirred one by one from their sleep. As always, Lance was the last to get up, and he only did so before midday because Nuala convinced Charla to poke him awake. To no one's surprise, he was grumpy. To Charla's surprise, it wasn't for the reason she expected.

"You should have woken me sooner," he grumbled, as he stretched and yawned and glared at the blazing sun. "The morning's almost over. We could've headed out hours ago."

"But you don't like it when I wake you up early," Charla pointed out, and he huffed.

"I also don't like it when I sleep later than I meant to." He ran a paw down his face, grimacing. "We didn't even take turns on watch last night… Talk about out of practice. Guess we'll have to get used to roughing it in the wilds again."

"At least we don't have to eat bugs anymore," Charla said, and then pulled a face when she realised there was no breakfast this morning and they'd have to hunt later. She'd been getting used to regular mealtimes.

"Ah, quit your whining," said Nuala. "We've done this plenty. It'll be easy. Now, how about you do what you do best and tell us which way we're supposed to going, big guy. We ain't got all day."

Lance scowled but didn't argue. Shaking his head, he donned his satchel and plodded down to the edge of the lake to wash his face. Meredy was already there, preening her mane after taking a dip in the freezing water. Charla and Nuala trailed after him.

"I thought about it for a long time," he said over his shoulder as he cleaned the mud and leaves from between his claws, "and I figured the best thing we can do is scope out the area for ourselves before we decide. We have two options, and before we know which is the safest path, we need to know what the apes are doing."

He turned back to them. "So here's what we're going to do. We're going to head around the western bank of the lake and find the tributary that leads into the Serpens River, and we're going to see how much activity is going on there. If it's too dangerous for us to go further, we'll have to turn back. In that case, we're going to take a detour along the Shimmerscale River and into the Jordian Grasslands, which will eventually get us to the far north edge of the western coast. It should be safer up there."

"So why not do that immediately?" Nuala asked, wrinkling her muzzle. "Screw the Serpens River. It probably stinks of ape, anyway."

"Because going along the Shimmerscale is a long detour. It could extend the trip by a week or more. And I'm sure Charla thinks we've already wasted enough time as it is."

He gave her a meaningful look, and Charla nodded quickly. The thought of the approaching eclipse nibbled again at the back of her mind. She tried to ignore it.

"Maybe we'll be lucky and the apes won't be using the Serpens River as much as they used to. Who knows what's going on with the siege at Warfang…" Lance glanced towards the south with grim concern, and Charla wondered if he was thinking of Chelcie. "If it'll shorten our trip, it's worth checking out."

Nuala shrugged. "Alright, fine. If Char agrees, I agree. What about you, Merry? Any thoughts?"

Meredy startled, claws tangling in her tail-fur, as if she hadn't expected to be spoken to. Colour flooded her cheeks. "I-I think it sounds like a good plan. I'm sure Lance knows what he's doing."

Nuala smirked. "I wouldn't go that far. But sure, whatever, looks like we all agree. You ready to go, Char?"

Charla jumped a little, tearing her eyes from the suddenly dismal look on Meredy's face. "Uh, y-yeah! Let's go!"

So, with the way forward clear at last, they gathered their satchels, got Meredy settled on Lance's back, and set out together into the blazing blue sky.

* * *

Oh, how wonderful to fly again, to feel the breeze, to be above the world. Charla had never been so glad to leave anywhere as she was to leave Whisperglade and its perpetual ceiling. She had never missed the open sky so much.

They cut a diagonal path across the lake, soaring through icy winds that blew in from the snow-covered hills. Charla and Nuala made a game of it, racing to see who could fly faster for longer, daring each other into flips, rolls and pirouettes. When Lance scolded them, Nuala said life was too short to fly sensibly.

"Yours sure will be," he grumbled, but at least it got a giggle out of Meredy.

By mid-afternoon, they'd found the yawning mouth of the Shimmerscale—an impressively wide river whose sparkling blue tail snaked away into the western trees. Lance called them down to earth for a rest, and they refilled their waterskins in the running water. Charla gazed down the river, which cut a wide path through this part of the forest.

"Where does it go?" she wondered aloud, trying to recall the map. "Is this still Whisperglade?"

"Southern Whisperglade, technically," said Lance. "It's…let's say 'more normal' than the rest of it. It joins up with the Everleigh further south, and that's just your typical evergreen forest. As for the Shimmerscale…"

He gazed along its length, staring into the distance with an unreadable expression on his face. Charla got the feeling that he was seeing something she couldn't.

"It goes home," he said finally, ruffling his wings. "To Westwing Range, and Jordguard. That's where the river starts. In the mountains."

He hesitated and dipped his paw into the edge of the water, watched it ripple and flow around his claws. "This is the same water I drank as a child. The same water Selik drank. The same river we washed ourselves in when we didn't want Mum to know we'd been wrestling…"

His talons curled. "The other end of this river was where I started, that day I left Jordguard, four years ago. I didn't follow it for long, of course—went south to avoid the grasslands and the apes—but still. Feels weird to be here now, at the other end."

Nuala clipped him upside the head with the tip of her wing. "Buck up, big guy! Journey's not over yet. And I'm starved. How about you go hunt us something fat and juicy?" She gave him a thin, needle-toothed smile. "Unless you want me and Char to do it."

Lance shook his head. The faraway look in his eyes faded, but before he could open his mouth to speak, Charla cut in—and she knew exactly what Nuala wanted her to say.

"It's okay; we can do it! You can stay here with Meredy." She gave her best winning smile.

Nuala grinned and looped towards the treeline. "Sounds good to me! Let's go before I starve to death."

She disappeared into the shadow of the trees before Lance could protest, but Charla wasn't quick enough. His paw fell on her shoulder, heavy and halting. She cringed. Of course it wouldn't be that easy to sneak away with Nuala without making him suspicious. Gone were the days of slipping away in the night; they needed the rest for long days of travel, and everyone slept lighter out here in the wilds, wary of danger. They had to think of _something_ else.

But when she looked up into his face, expecting a scowl, she found instead a grateful smile. She faltered.

"Thanks, kid," Lance said quietly, stooping to her level. "I appreciate it. This will give me a chance to work with Meredy while you're gone. Just be safe and don't get lost, okay? I'll get Meredy to send out a whisper if you're not back in an hour, just in case."

"Y-yeah," Charla stammered. "Of course. We'll be back soon."

"Happy hunting, kiddo."

He let her go and she scampered into the trees after Nuala, not daring to look back until the shade of the canopy had swallowed her. Nuala was waiting there, perched on a branch, looking tense. When Charla approached, she glided down and circled around her.

"What'd he say? Did he try to stop you?"

Charla shook her head. For some reason, she felt guilty. "No… He thanked me. He said it gave him time to work with Meredy."

Nuala laughed and her eyes lit up. "Seriously? Heck, Char. I think this is going to be easier than we thought. They're so busy with their own magic stuff they're not even going to notice _ours_." She grinned and flapped higher, making leaves shudder on their branches. "Of course, hunting together _was_ a good idea, but we know I'm full of those. C'mon, let's go get us some grub!"

She darted away into the forest without another word, Charla cantering in her wake. Hunting together had been the obvious solution, or so they'd decided yesterday. It was something they did often anyway, even back when they'd first started travelling together. As long as they played it cool, neither Lance nor Meredy would bat an eyelid.

And, with any luck, it would give them plenty of opportunity for practice.

As they went deeper, following the river, Charla began to notice what Lance had meant about Southern Whisperglade. The trees here were tall and thin, but they would have been dwarfed by the towering giants they'd left behind, and the canopy was not nearly so thick and stifling. Light broke through with ease, leaving the forest pleasantly bright and sun-dappled, and Charla was in high spirits. There was no fear of giant predators here, and unseen birds were whistling in the branches.

Nuala was the first to spot potential prey—a tree-rodent almost half her size, with a long tufted tail and furred webbing between hind and foreleg. It was in a tree just ahead of them, rustling in the leaves near the canopy. It hadn't seen them. Nuala descended silently onto Charla's back.

"See it?" she whispered, and Charla nodded. Nuala dug her claws in. "Let's see how it likes our magic."

She didn't waste time, but Charla had expected this. This was what they were here for.

Cold bled through her scales and into her bloodstream, a flood of strange but now-familiar mana, and she braced herself. She couldn't afford to thrash in panic this time; she had to curb it quickly and quietly and without fuss, lest they lose the prey before they'd even done anything.

When it hit, when the cold rushed into the cavity of her chest and she felt the intruder inside her mind, she silenced her gasp. Nuala's magic flooded her eyes; thoughts that were not hers whispered inside her head. Panic seized. She dug her claws into the earth.

 _Get out, get out!_ a voice was screaming, and she knew it was her own, howling inside her skull. She tried to stifle it, to push it down, but the intruder was worming its way deep into her thoughts and she was losing control, losing herself.

Another voice, Nuala's voice, was chanting softly in the chaos, and Charla clung to it with everything she could.

 _It's okay, it's okay, it's okay…_

 _It's okay, Char._

And it was. Charla closed her eyes and breathed out, and the panic bled away. Nuala was not an intruder. She _was_ Nuala. And Nuala was her. There was no line between them.

When she opened her eyes again, she found that she could see sharper than she could before, that scents were stronger and sounds were louder. She could hear the skitter of tiny claws on bark, and the tree-rodent stood out among the leaves as if it were glowing. She could smell the warm blood in its veins.

She moved forward, soundless, creeping. There was no need to wonder what to do next. Somehow, she knew it as surely as she felt the mana rushing cold and powerful through her blood.

She was going to set the tree on fire.

So she did.

It happened in the blink of an eye. One moment she was looking at the tree, imagining its bark, its leaves, its branches all ablaze in flame—and, the next moment, it was. Blue fire roared to life without word or action, racing with wild hunger up the trunk of the tree and bursting in wicked crimson tongues into the canopy. The tree-rodent shrieked and leapt for safety, spreading its webbing, gliding out of reach.

She snarled. In her mind's eye, she saw fire burst to life along the forest floor, saw it rise in a blazing wall to force the rodent back. Then the fire was there, crackling fiercely, and her prey screamed as it was trapped. Flames licked at its fur, sending curls of dark smoke rising into the air; blinded by pain and fear, it wheeled around and fled the other way.

Charla was waiting for it. She pounced, claws bared, and that was the end of that.

Nuala separated from her with a wrench like breaking the surface of a glassy pool. Gasping, Charla slumped to her stomach and stared at the smoking carcass between her paws. Her head was swimming. Excess magic licked and curled around her, manifesting in tongues of powder-blue flame.

She snorted puffs of fire from her nostrils until the feeling passed, and then stared at Nuala, who was inspecting their catch. The vulpala was jittering with something akin to excitement, but otherwise seemed once again unaffected by their moment of connection.

"Look at it," she said, almost breathlessly, prodding the carcass. "It's burnt! It's actually burnt! Those should have been illusion flames, but they burnt it!"

Charla blinked a few times to clear the fog from her head, staring. Sure enough, patches of the rodent's fur were burnt and blackened at the tips, and it smelled of smoke. It was nothing compared to what her fire normally did, but illusions should not have been able to do this.

Illusions weren't real. Those flames should not have been real. She hadn't even breathed them! They'd just…appeared.

Twisting her tail, Charla looked up at the tree where the hapless rodent had been sitting. If those flames had been real, it would have been black and dead-looking—still burning, even. But the fire had disappeared as quickly as it had roared to life, and all it left behind were smears of dark ash on the bark and a pawful of crispy leaves. She could smell smoke, but it was fading.

"This is crazy," Nuala said, her voice hushed with excitement, as she turned in a circle to assess the damage. "It's like I thought; we're combining our magics. Half illusion, half real… That's what this is. I'm sure of it."

"But what do we do with it?" Charla wondered aloud, still dazed. "What _can_ we do with it?"

Nuala turned to her, a wild grin lighting her face, her eyes glowing like fire themselves. "That's what you and I are going to find out."

* * *

In the late afternoon, as the sun began to sink behind the trees along the Shimmerscale, Charla and Nuala followed Meredy's windwhispers back to the lake with plenty of prey for everyone. Lance acted like he wanted to scold them for being gone so long, but he also jostled Charla's horns in a companionable way and praised her for a hunt well done. They had a leisurely meal by the lakeside, and Charla had never been so happy to eat real meat. Secretly, she vowed never to eat bugs again.

Before they went on, Lance pulled out the map to double-check the distance to the Serpens River. Charla peered over his shoulder.

"It's a bit hard to tell on a tiny map like this," he said, "but I think we can reach the tributary by nightfall. We'll camp out in the trees near the lake and head for the river in the morning…"

Charla was more interested in the inky line of hills drawn on the other side of the lake. Under the name _Drakus Ridge_ was a smaller word: _Thunderfalls_. She looked up. The real hills sparkled in the afternoon light, thick with snow, but they were still and unassuming in the distance.

"Are there supposed to be waterfalls over there?" she asked, pointing at the word on the map.

"Not this time of year," said Lance. "The Thunderfalls only run in spring and early summer, when all the snow melts and drains into the lake. Everything's frozen right now. Bit of a shame, I guess. I've heard they're the biggest waterfalls in the Realms. Must be an impressive sight."

"Why? It's just a bunch of water," Nuala pointed out, but Charla pouted. She wanted to see that. Stupid winter.

They set out soon after, and flew almost until sundown while the lake rippled and shimmered below them. As the last amber light began to fade from the water, Meredy called out and directed their eyes to the thin stream trailing away into the trees. With Charla at the head, they descended onto the southern bank of Lake Qilin and the start of their next path.

It was too dark to go any further, and so they camped at the edge of the trees like Lance expected. Though there was not yet any sign of ape activity, the threat of nearby hostile territory loomed over them, and no one slept deeply. They took turns on watch that night, and the good mood that had persisted among them all day slowly faded and turned grim, like a shadow passing over the moons.

From here on, they would be in dangerous lands.

Meredy was on the final watch of the night and she woke them all shortly after sunrise, when the light was still feeble and milky. Lance grunted and snorted in displeasure, but kept his complaints to himself.

After a quick bath in the lake shallows, they gathered at the edge of the tributary and prepared themselves. They would be trekking on foot until they reached the river, and likely after that as well, because flying would attract too many unfriendly eyes. Lance couldn't stop pacing.

"We have to be cautious," he warned everyone, as if they didn't already know that. "Stay on the ground, stay together, stay in cover, and don't make too much noise. We don't know what the state of the river is. There could be a lot of apes or there could be none. We're in the wilds here, halfway between the ocean and the Igneous Basin where the river starts, so with any luck this part of it could be basically deserted. But we can't be sure. Keep your eyes peeled and don't do anything stupid. For now, we're just going to look."

"We get it, big guy. You sound like an anxious mother." Nuala was on Charla's back again, and she could feel the vulpala's tail twitching agitatedly against her scales.

"We'll be careful," Meredy promised, but Charla thought she looked terrified. She kept smoothing her mane back, as if to stop her paws from shaking.

Lance nodded grimly, then took a deep breath. "Well, we knew we had to do this eventually. I'll lead."

And so they set out. Charla would have liked to be up front, or at least behind Lance, but Nuala convinced her to take up the rear so Meredy wouldn't have to. The sky serpent was twitchy enough as it was. But Charla wasn't worried. The skies were clear, the rising sun shone brightly through thin canopy, and the only signs of life were birds calling in the trees. It was too peaceful. This couldn't be ape territory yet.

The tributary led them on for what felt like hours, streaming merrily over sandy earth, winding around rock and heather through sparse forest. But soon enough, as the sun rose high into mid-morning, the trees began to thicken and they heard a low rushing sound somewhere in the distance. Their tiny sidestream kicked and burbled faster, bucking against jutting rocks and protruding roots. Charla could taste damp on her tongue. They were nearing the river.

Here, Lance slowed down and edged forward with caution, his head held high to scout for danger. Charla listened hard, but no sound came to her beyond the rushing of the river and the whisper of wind in the leaves. The forest gloom hid no lurking bodies, and the only scent in her mouth was fresh water and wet earth.

Lance paused, turning his head to and fro, and then beckoned them away from the stream. "This way," he said lowly.

Meredy crept after him, but Charla paused and gazed down the path they had been following. She could see a flash of the river ahead, its waters shimmering with deceptive calm, and see where the tributary trickled in to join it. There was no sign of apes.

But when she opened her nostrils and took a deep breath, she tasted more than just the river and the forest. Something had been here. It had passed and gone, but it had been here—and it smelled of ape. Licking her fangs nervously, she scurried after Meredy and Lance.

Nuala dug her claws in. "You smell that?"

"Yeah," Charla whispered back, and they fell into grim silence.

Lance had found them cover near the edge of the river—a smooth outcropping of rock set just back from the bank, skirted by trees. He and Meredy slunk in behind it, and Charla hurried to join them. The scent was stronger closer to the river, and she knew from the look on Lance's face that he had noticed it too. He peered through a gap between rock and tree.

"Apes were here recently," he murmured. "Many of them. I don't think they stopped, but still. I don't know which way they were going."

"Should we turn back?" Meredy whispered, her eyes huge and frightened in her slender face, but he shook his head.

"Not yet. We might still be safe. They passed not long ago, so I doubt there'll be more any time soon. Probably just a carrier bringing supplies to the siegers at Warfang…"

"Are you sure there won't be more?" Charla asked, and felt Nuala slip off her back. She was sniffing the air.

"I can't be sure of anything," said Lance. "But assuming the siege is still happening, and a carrier boat passed by here only recently, I'd wager a bet that we're safe for now. There might be more, but not for a few days. It doesn't seem like there's a lot of activity around these parts, and we can hide in the trees if any more supply boats come past…"

He straightened up and craned his head over the outcrop, scouting the river in both directions. Nuala lashed her tail.

"Wait," she said sharply. "Let's wait here for a while. I don't think we're safe yet."

Lance gave her a hard look. "What makes you say that?"

"My sense of smell is better than yours," she growled. "I think there's more apes coming, and they're not far away."

Meredy exhaled a tiny whimper and sank into a crouch behind the outcrop. Charla shifted nervously. Lance's jaw tightened.

"Alright, we'll wait. We don't want to take any chances."

So they crouched in the dirt and the fallen leaves, and for many long minutes they waited and listened. The river gushed by, distant birds chittered in the treetops, and Charla's tensed legs began to ache. She was just beginning to think that Nuala was wrong, and was tempting herself to peer over the rock, when she heard something. Nuala's ear flicked and she hissed at them to stay quiet. Charla held her breath.

There was a scent on the breeze—a whiff of unwashed fur, a tang of metal—and with it came a warbling of noise. Voices, chattering, arguing, laughing; the sloshing of disturbed water, the creaking of wood. And as they crouched there, tense and frightened, a hulking shape came drifting around the curve of the river.

It was a boat so big it hardly fit between the banks, its hull a patchwork mess of wooden planks and metal plates, and upon its great flat deck were scores of apes. Most of them were dressed in armour and wielding spears or swords or knives, and they talked uproariously as they sailed down the river. Dozens of them were sitting at the oars, ferrying them along with little effort, for the current was on their side and it carried them merrily towards the ocean.

Charla gazed at them in awe as they passed, peering one eye between rock and tree. She had not seen apes in weeks—even more, if she did not count the lone and pitiful figure of Kafik, the ill-fated dreadwing rider—and somehow the sight of them filled her with equal parts fear and excitement. They'd kill her as soon as they saw her, but they told her one very important thing. She was on the right track. She was getting closer to Jayce.

Beside her, Meredy had her paws over her muzzle, and her eyes were huge with terror. Nuala's lips twitched over her fangs. But the great ship of apes did not stick around long; it passed out of sight in minutes, and soon it had passed out of earshot too. They had gone unnoticed.

"That's a lot of apes for a supply boat," Lance muttered when they were gone. "Those were soldiers. They looked like they came from the siege… But why are they leaving?"

For the boat had been sailing away from Warfang, back towards the western sea. Charla frowned.

Meredy let out a shaky breath. "I think… Maybe we should go back…"

Lance hummed grimly, his eyebrows knitting together, but before he could say anything, Nuala hissed at them again. Charla lowered herself to the ground for a second time, and listened with wide eyes as the sound of another ship came rolling around the riverbend. And sure enough, moments later, another carrier of apes sailed into view. Like the others, these apes were armed and armoured and smelled as though they hadn't washed in weeks. Their boat was slightly smaller, but it sat heavy in the water with the weight of countless passengers.

The apes near the bow were laughing and joking, jostling and daring each other to jump over the edge and into the river. One almost fell in, and he had to be saved by his fellows, who grabbed him by the ears and hauled him back onboard. They howled with laughter.

Minutes later, they too had faded out of earshot. Charla swallowed. She hadn't expected the river to be this busy. Judging by Lance's frown, he hadn't either.

"You guys wait here," Nuala muttered. "I'm going to get a better look."

She swept her wings down and soared up into the branches of a nearby tree, but Charla wasn't having that. _She_ wanted to look too. Ignoring Lance's snarl of shock and anger, she bolted for the tree and leapt up onto its lower branches. Then, using her wings and tail for balance, she clambered like a tree-rat all the way up the trunk and into the canopy. Lance hissed for her to come back, but the scratching of her claws on wood and bark soon drowned him out.

When she reached the top and her head broke through the canopy into a world of yellow sunlight and winter winds, she found Nuala perched among the thin branches just above her. The vulpala glanced at her without surprise, then pointed with a wing.

"Look at that."

Charla looked. Here above the treetops, she could see the blue snake of the Serpens River winding its way through the forest, its waters glinting like scales in sunlight. Far away to the east and west it disappeared among the trees, but that wasn't what mattered. What mattered was what she could see.

And what she could see were apes. Hundreds of them.

All along the length of the river, boats and ships and tiny dinghies trailed like ants on a merry path, and she knew without even seeing that each one of them carried apes. Tens of apes, scores of apes—all of them soldiers, all of them going the same way. Away from Warfang. Away from the siege. Into the west.

"There's so many," Nuala muttered. "Hundreds, probably. They must be from that siege you were talking about. Maybe they gave up. Why, though? And where are they all going?"

Charla dug her claws into the branch beneath her feet. For some reason, she thought of the dreams she had been having lately. She thought of the tugging in her gut that had persisted ever since yesterday morning. She thought of the strange yearning that pulled her southwest, that guided her, as Pema had said, like a moth to flame. And she knew, as she watched the apes float down the Serpens River—she knew with a certainty she could not explain—exactly where they were going.

"Home," she said quietly. "They're going back to the Well of Souls. Just like us."


	20. What Comes Out at Night

**Chapter 20**

 **What Comes Out at Night**

It was a subdued group that made its way back to the banks of Lake Qilin and the mouth of the Shimmerscale. They picked their moment, when the river was quiet, and slunk away just as they had arrived—unnoticed. And nobody disagreed that the Serpens River, however convenient, was no longer an option.

Even eternally pessimistic Lance hadn't expected to find so many apes there. They were left without a choice, and no one was happy about it.

But the Shimmerscale was not a bad option, despite the lengthy detour; it was the presence of apes itself that had them gloomy, grim and silent for the rest of the day. It was as if they'd forgotten this feeling—this sense of doom—after all their weeks in the northern reaches of the Dragon Realms, separated from the war, safe and unharried by the army that had driven them there in the first place. But now they were back, and the lands ahead seemed more dangerous than ever. The apes were on the move and none of them knew why.

For Charla, her unexplainable certainty about their destination brought with it neither relief nor comfort. It was the 'why' that bothered her.

If they really were going back to the Well of Souls, _why_?

Why now?

Why all at once?

And why could _she_ feel it pulling her there, too?

The Night of Eternal Darkness was gnawing at the back of her mind more fiercely than ever, and the thought of another detour—yet another week added to the journey—filled her stomach with a thousand fire mites. More time wasted. More time for the eclipse to draw nearer.

"What if we don't follow the river?" she'd tried to suggest as they made it back to the lake. "We could just go straight west through the forest from here."

But Lance wasn't having it. "We're not taking the risk. Not with that many apes on the move. They'll be docking their ships at night, sleeping and foraging in the forest—and the moment they catch wind of us, we're goners. We need to get far away from them, and there's every chance we could get turned around in the forest if we try to cut through. This is still Whisperglade, after all. We're not out of it yet."

So that was that. They made their way back to the Shimmerscale on foot, grounded by the threat of unfriendly eyes, and Charla's spirits fell like leaden weights into her paws. She watched Nuala gliding low ahead of them and wished she could get back the thrill of excitement she'd felt upon first glimpsing the apes. Maybe it was just the familiarity, but, for a second there, Jayce had felt closer than ever. And now she was walking away from him.

It was evening by the time they found the Shimmerscale again. As the sun set beyond the forest, Lance had them make camp inside the treeline—hidden by the underbrush but still in sight of the shore, just in case. He took first watch.

That night, after tossing and turning for ages, Charla dreamed again of the Well of Souls. But this time, as the call of the mountain sped her across the lands towards it, she found that she was not alone. The apes were moving, too. She watched them marching over hill and dale, through forest and swamp, on river and sea—and she saw them converge, an army of ants, at the foot of the Mountain of Malefor, as if they were drawn to it as she was. Together they watched the moons embrace at the peak of the mountain.

And somewhere in the far dark recesses of her mind, she heard a voice she'd never heard before—and yet one that was inexplicably familiar.

 _It is their calling…_

She woke shivering and confused, with the night still thick around her. There was hardly a breeze, but in this absolute silence she could hear the leaves rattling and the water of the lake lapping at the shore. Meredy was on watch, and she sat still and rigid at the edge of the trees, as if the moonlight had turned her to stone. When Charla shifted, she glanced back.

Neither of them said anything, but Charla knew what she was thinking—knew she must look as scared and shaken as Meredy had been in the wake of her own nightmares. Yet more proof, she realised uncomfortably, for Meredy's suspicions. As if she needed any more proof to know that something was bothering Charla…

Still shivering, Charla curled up and pressed herself to Lance's warm flank, trying to pretend that nothing was wrong. But her mind was whirring, and sleep did not come easily.

She didn't understand what her dream was supposed to mean—what the voice had meant. _What_ was their calling? The Well of Souls? But why now, and what did the eclipse have to do with it?

And again she wondered, why _her_? Why did it call her, too?

She tried to tell herself that she was imagining it, that the only reason she felt this calling was because she really did need to get to the Well of Souls. She really, desperately, needed to. It was what she wanted, nothing more.

But there was always that little voice in her head—the one that said: ' _But it was never like this before.'_

She had never felt the urgent need like this before, like it was a real physical force pulling at her innards, like she couldn't turn away. She had never dreamed the way she dreamed now, and she had never before been guided by her own subconscious mind to the Well of Souls—as if, all along, she had known where it was.

If she'd had these dreams a month ago, she wouldn't have ever needed to go to Warfang. She wouldn't have needed a map. She would have known, right from the very start…

But she hadn't.

So why did she now? Why did it call her there now—and not just her, but the apes too?

And what did the Night of Eternal Darkness have to do with any of this?

The questions devoured her. But something deep inside her whispered that knowing the answers might even be worse.

They left early the next morning, when the sky was still dusky and the golden head of the sun had just begun to show itself between the hills. Nuala, on the final watch of the night, poked everyone awake—and nearly lost a paw to Lance for her trouble. He scored a new scar on the tip of his muzzle in response. Nevertheless, they set out long before the sun had fully risen, and made a brisk pace along the banks of the river. Lance kept them grounded still, despite protests from Charla and Nuala, but they walked quickly and the going was easy.

The Shimmerscale was a wide and confident river, slicing through the forest with a determination that the River Lacrima had lacked. The trees kept well back and the canopy was far from closing overhead. This was a river they wouldn't easily lose.

It wasn't until late afternoon that Lance allowed them to get airborne, and even then he told them to keep low. They flew over the water to avoid the hazards of leaves and branches, and Charla was scolded more than once for flying too high above the treetops. She was in a bad mood by the time they landed—a fact not helped by the many questions and anxieties eating away at her innards.

When Lance suggested they stop early for the night, she very nearly snapped at him. She would have if Nuala and Meredy hadn't agreed with him so quickly. Instead, she swallowed her impatience and went to sulk in the trees away from the river. Nuala followed her.

"Those two are gonna do their lesson thing," she said, jerking her head back at Lance and Meredy, who remained in the open space at the edge of the river. "Wanna go hunt?"

There was no reason to, really. Just earlier that day they'd gone fishing in the river and caught enough to fill their stomachs, and Charla wasn't hungry anymore. But she knew what Nuala actually wanted. The problem was, she didn't feel like it. All she felt like doing was sitting and sulking and brooding about all the bad things on her mind. Alone, preferably.

She'd never turned Nuala down before, but there was a first time for everything.

"I don't want to," she grumbled, flopping on her belly in the litterfall. "We can do it tomorrow."

Nuala raised her eyebrows. "C'mon, Char, we got nothing else to do."

"I don't want to," Charla repeated, turning her face away sulkily. "I'm tired."

She wasn't, but it was as good an excuse as any. Nuala huffed and stalked away with a sour look on her face. Charla didn't care. Resting her chin on her paws, she gazed at Lance and Meredy through the trees and waited for them to do something—for Meredy to do something. A little nervous prickle danced down her spine.

What if she lost control again? Was this a good place to practice? There were trees everywhere, and if one of those came down…

She dug her claws into the earth. No, Lance wasn't stupid. He knew what he was doing. Hopefully.

"Nothing too difficult today," she heard him saying. "Too many trees around. We can do more when we get out on the grasslands."

Meredy nodded, her face set. Lance sat at the edge of the river and gestured for her to join him, murmuring something that Charla couldn't hear. For several minutes they sat together in silence, Meredy with her eyes closed, Lance watching her calmly. Charla could see his mouth moving, forming words she couldn't hear, and Meredy breathed deep and steady in time with him. In. Out. In. Out.

Charla's eyelids drooped. Maybe she _was_ tired, after all…

"Do you feel it?" Lance asked softly, and Meredy nodded without opening her eyes. "Good. I want you to use your windsense now. Keep your eyes closed and tell me what you see."

Meredy's face creased and then smoothed again. A moment later, she murmured, "I see the river. It's flowing faster than it looks… It curves to the left just up ahead, slightly, not too sharply."

"What else?"

"I see… Charla. She's sitting by the tree to your right, in the undergrowth. And Nuala. She's in the tree above her."

Charla lifted her head to check, and sure enough Nuala was sitting in the branches near the top of the tree. Maybe she was sulking too. Lance nodded, but Meredy wasn't finished.

"There's a bird," she added quietly, "in a tree around the bend of the river, low to the water. It's hunting for bugs. I can hear its beak clacking."

Lance smiled. "Very good. I definitely can't hear that. Can you see the fallen leaves around our paws?"

"Yes."

"Can you shift them?"

A pause. A crease formed again in Meredy's brow. "...Yes. I think so."

"Do it. Gently."

She inhaled, held her breath, and then let it out in a long, deep sigh. The breeze, once gentle and barely there, picked up with a sound like a giant dragon exhaling through its nostrils. It licked over Charla's scales, icy with winter chill, and she shuddered. Her stomach flipped nervously. Around Meredy and Lance, the leaf litter lifted and twirled in a short but graceful dance, then fluttered to the ground.

"Again," said Lance. "A little stronger."

Meredy breathed in and then out. Another gust gushed along the river, and this time the leaves went flying like moths into the air. Charla shied back as the ones closest to her spun out and almost whipped her across the face. Above her, the branches creaked and trembled and Nuala squawked as she was almost thrown off her perch. Meredy gasped; her eyes flew open.

Maybe it was the sound of Nuala's cry, or maybe Meredy's feeble control had just slipped, but before Charla even had a chance to panic, the gale roared to life. Several things happened at once. Leaves exploded into the air, the river heaved and flurried, Nuala fell out of the tree with a clipped yelp, and Charla cried out as she was blinded by sharp debris. At the same time, she heard a deep-throated yell and a tremendous splash—and then Lance was in the river.

The wind died at once. Charla pawed dirt from her eyes and jolted to her feet. Meredy leapt in after him without a moment's hesitation.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," he insisted gruffly as she helped him haul his bulky form back up the muddy bank. His claws had left gouges in the soft earth, and it looked like he'd taken half the bank with him when he'd fallen in. But apart from a scowl, he seemed unharmed.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," Meredy repeated over and over again, even as Lance grabbed her paw and hauled her out of the river too. "I don't know what happened! I just slipped, a-and—"

"It's fine." Lance shook the water from his frills and looked for the others. His eyes fell on Charla, who stood stunned by the treeline, and Nuala, who was swearing quietly as she picked herself up with feathers askew. His shoulders relaxed. "You lost control for a moment, but it looks like you managed to hold it back a bit this time. You're getting better."

"I… I am?" Meredy swallowed and looked around, her eyes lingering worriedly on Charla and Nuala. Apart from tearing up leaves and throwing Lance into the river, she hadn't done much damage. She hadn't even brought any branches down this time.

But she had still lost control. And deep in her gut, Charla knew it could have been much worse. She sat down shakily and waited for Lance's lecture—the one about safety and control and how she needed to try harder because she was putting them all in danger. But it never came.

"You're definitely getting better," he said, resting a paw on her shoulder. "I feel like you're taking it seriously now and it's working. We'll have you controlling it in no time, and with any luck this won't happen again. So don't worry. A mishap here and there isn't something to stress over. Nobody's hurt. You're doing well."

Colour flooded Meredy's cheeks and she ducked her head in a failed attempt to hide her smile. "I… I'll keep trying. I want this to work. I won't lose control again, I promise."

Lance smirked. "We'll work on that. But let's wait until we're out in the open before we try this again, okay?"

Meredy giggled and nodded.

Charla scowled.

* * *

Late in the night, long after they'd all gone to sleep, Charla was startled awake once more by dreams of apes, the Well, and eternal darkness. As her racing heart eased, she lay still and screwed her eyes shut, digging her claws into her own scales. She wished it would _stop_ already. She was sick of this—sick of things she didn't understand, sick of being _scared_. Why couldn't the dreams just leave her alone?

It was all stupid Pema's fault. If she'd never told Charla about the Night of Eternal Darkness, she never would have gotten scared in the first place. She wouldn't be having these nightmares if Pema had only kept her mouth shut.

But then… _she_ was the one who had begged Pema for answers.

Well, if Pema had answered _all_ of her questions, then she wouldn't be fretting about things she didn't understand now! It was _her_ fault Charla didn't understand.

It was her fault…

Groaning under her breath, Charla uncurled and raised her head. It was dark between the trees, but moonlight glowed on the surface of the river and silhouetted the small shape of a winged fox sitting on a low branch nearby. Nuala was on watch, then. She couldn't see the others in the darkness, but she could hear Lance's gentle snores.

Rolling her tongue around in her dry, parched mouth, Charla grimaced and got to her feet. She padded out of the trees and over to the riverbank without caring if Nuala saw her, then dipped her muzzle into the cool, flowing waters.

When she had drank her fill, she splashed her face and straightened up. There were clouds gathering in the sky, but the moons broke through with ease, like angry mismatched eyes. Was it her imagination or were they closer together than usual? Charla licked her fangs and turned back to the trees.

Nuala was looking straight at her, eyes glowing with the reflection of moonlight. As Charla plodded closer, she glided down.

"What's up, Char? Trouble sleeping? We could go for a little midnight hunting if you want."

Charla shook her head. "I just had a bad dream. Aren't you supposed to be on watch?"

Nuala pulled a face. "Yeah, I guess. I was gonna wake you to take over soon, anyway." She paused, side-eying Charla. "Bad dreams, huh? You're not turning into Merry, are you?"

Charla scowled and said nothing. But she didn't feel like going back to sleep, and it sounded like it would be her turn on watch soon, so she sat down beside Nuala without a fuss. Nuala sat with her.

"What sorta bad dream? Something about apes? I get 'em too sometimes."

Charla grunted. Nuala flicked her tail.

"Alright, you don't wanna talk about it, whatever. Don't get all quiet and secretive on me now. I get enough of that with Merry. Though she's been getting better lately… She got all friendly with the monks, did you know? She told me so, said they helped her out a bit with the nightmares. Can't say I'll suddenly start liking them, but at least they were good for something."

Charla said nothing. She didn't want to think about Meredy _or_ the monks. Even if she did wonder how much Nuala knew…

Not as much as her, that was for sure.

"Wish she'd stop throwing us around every time she loses control, though," Nuala said, somehow managing to grimace and smirk at the same time. "You reckon big guy was right, that she's getting better? Can't say I see it myself, but what do I know about her magic. Maybe she'll even be flying by the time we get to the Mountain of Malefor. That'd be handy, eh?"

Again, Charla scowled. She didn't _want_ to think about this. Her dream was enough to worry about without conjuring up the image of Meredy tearing them all to pieces in a storm of uncontrolled magic.

Nuala huffed. "C'mon, Char, gimme something to work with. Do you want me to leave you alone? I'll go sleep and you can keep watch. Is that what you want? You've been weird all day."

"Weird how?" Charla grumbled.

"I dunno, grumpy, sulky, whatever. Like something's got your tail in a knot. Is it the apes, 'cause they messed up our plans? I hate them too. But we're gonna mess them up when we get to the Mountain, you wait and see." She leaned forward to look at Charla's face in the moonlight. "We _are_ gonna get there, you know. Sooner or later."

"I _know_ , it's just…" Charla clenched her eyes shut and sighed. "What if…we don't get there in time? What if we're too late?"

 _And why does it feel like something horrible is going to happen when we do get there?_

Nuala sighed, too—and, after an awkward moment of silence, she placed her tiny white paw over Charla's. It was soft and warm. "We're doing everything we can, Char. If your family is alive, we're gonna save them. I made you a promise. And if they're not…" Her claws flexed, pressed into Charla's scales. "We'll deal with that when it comes. But whatever happens, I'll be right beside you. You and me, we're gonna stick together, alright? We're gonna face the world, apes and all, and we're gonna do it together. Everything's gonna be alright, one way or another."

She looked up into Charla's eyes, hers stark and bright with the glow of glaring moons. "Alright? You believe that?"

Charla swallowed and nodded. She did believe that. She believed that Nuala would stay with her no matter what. They'd shared everything with each other—thoughts and feelings she'd never shared with anyone else—and she trusted her. She trusted her more than she'd trusted anyone. More than Meredy. Maybe even more than Lance. She could tell Nuala anything.

And that was why she finally asked the question that had been burning her up from the inside out.

"Nu? Do you know what…the Night of Eternal Darkness is?"

She held her breath, braced herself for whatever the response would be—but she didn't expect Nuala to cock her head and give her a suspicious look.

"Night of Eternal Darkness, huh?" she echoed, running a paw through the fur on her chest. "I dunno, Char, I'm getting flashbacks to that time you asked me if I knew about the Well of Souls. I didn't, of course, but it turned out you meant the Mountain of Malefor, so… What's this the codename for? Something spooky, from the sounds of it."

"No, it's…" Charla hesitated, her face warming. "It's not a codename. It's, um…like a story. You haven't heard of it?"

"Not a peep. You read about it in that book of yours or something? One of those stories?"

"Uh… yeah. I did." She pinched her own tail. That was an easier explanation than the truth. There was no point telling Nuala about Pema and the dream carvings. "But you don't know it?"

"Nope. What about it?"

Here, Charla faltered. Of all things, she hadn't expected this. When Pema had told her the story, she'd seemed surprised that Charla didn't already know it—and maybe that was why she'd built up the idea that her friends must have heard of it before. A famous tale, like the story of Mana and the crystals on her back…

She floundered a moment before finding the words. "It just kinda spooked me, that's all. It's about the Well of Souls, and, like…spirits rising from the dead and walking around inside the mountain. Sh—uh, it said that bad things happen there on the Night of Eternal Darkness, but it wasn't very clear…"

Nuala's mouth twisted with a friendly smirk. "This isn't what your bad dream was about, is it? Relax, Char. It's just a story, and it sounds kinda dumb to me. Spirits don't rise from the dead. And who cares if they do? We'll just walk straight through them. Not like ghosts can do anything to _us_."

She patted Charla's paw. "You're better off worrying about the apes, if you ask me. At least they're _real_. But as long as you've got me, I don't reckon you even need to worry about them. We've got it all under control."

"Y-yeah, of course," Charla stammered. She felt stupid all of a sudden, and maybe a little less scared. "It was just a dumb dream."

"And a dumb story, too." Nuala grinned and shook her head. "I'm gonna catch a few winks, alright? You're not too spooked to sit out here alone?"

"No! I'm fine. I'll keep watch."

"Good egg. Night, Char." She paused and looked back. "And remember, I'm with you all the way. I'm gonna get you to the Mountain of Malefor no matter what, ghosts or no ghosts. Trickster's promise."

She tapped her chest, winked, and then flew up into the trees in search of a good branch to sleep on. Charla exhaled softly.

"Thanks, Nu…"

And she meant it. A little piece of her bundled-up ball of fears felt like it had peeled away and faded as smoke into the air. Nuala was right. It was a dumb story and there was no point being scared, especially since Pema hadn't given her so much as a solid reason to be worried about it.

 _Bad things will happen,_ she'd said. What _bad_ things? If they were bad enough to warn her, she should have said what they were!

Charla huffed. Stupid Pema. Stupid dreams. Stupid story. Maybe she should tell Lance about it, just to hear him scoff and say it sounded ridiculous. There probably wasn't even such a thing as 'the Night of Eternal Darkness.' Maybe Pema had made the whole dumb thing up just to scare her. That sounded like something she'd do. She'd never liked Charla in the first place…

Something shifted in the leaf litter, startling her from her spiral of thoughts. Nuala had fallen asleep quickly, and her snores filled the quiet with a sound like stones grinding together. But Charla wasn't alone. Something was in the underbrush.

She twisted around, reaching for her fire. A shadowy figure rose from the earth and loomed towards her, twisting snakelike out of the darkness and into the moonlight. Charla tensed and willed the flames into her throat, then let them curl between her teeth. A pulse of firelight licked across Meredy's face. Her eyes were startled.

Groaning inwardly, Charla let the fire go and sat down with a bump. Just Meredy. Figures.

"You startled me," she grumbled.

Meredy slipped closer, a frown replacing her surprise. "I'm sorry. It wasn't my intention." She paused. "You seem on edge."

Charla pouted. "I was just thinking. I wasn't paying attention."

"I see." She sat down close to Charla and went silent.

Charla shifted. "Why are you awake? Are you having nightmares again?"

She hoped not. An anxious, tired Meredy was even more dangerous than normal. The more scared she was, the less control over magic she seemed to have.

Meredy shook her head slowly. "My dreams aren't…good, but they're not like they were before. I'm just finding it hard to sleep tonight. And I…heard you talking."

Ice crystallized in Charla's lungs."Y-you did? Did we wake you up? What did you—I mean, we weren't saying anything bad or anything! I just had a bad dream, and—"

"I know, Charla. I heard."

Charla gulped. Did that mean she'd heard _everything_? Why did this keep happening? It shouldn't be this hard to keep secrets from Meredy!

There was a moment of silence, broken only by Nuala's snores and the wind in the treetops. Charla didn't dare to say anything, and she waited with bated breath for Meredy to admit to what she'd heard. Everything? Nothing? It didn't take long.

"The Night of Eternal Darkness is a dragon folktale," she said, and the words were like a punch to Charla's gut. "It's no wonder Nuala hasn't heard of it."

Charla mouthed breathlessly. Now she'd done it. Meredy knew about the eclipse and now she'd tell Charla that she didn't want to stay anymore, that she wanted to go back to the monastery and she was going to tell Lance too, and then—

Wait.

"You…know about it?"

Meredy eyed her with something akin to concern. "I loved folktales when I was younger. I read all sorts of them, whatever I could get my paws on. I know the story." She flipped her tail over her paws, brushing Charla's leg with a few strands of tufted fur. "But I want to know where you heard of it."

Charla's mouth had gone dry again. She tried to swallow, but a lump formed in her throat. "I…read it. In my book."

Meredy sighed and looked away. "Charla… I've read that book. I've read the whole thing, every chapter. I know—"

"What?" Charla yelped. "When?"

She hugged her wing to the flank where her satchel usually sat, but then remembered she'd left it lying on the ground with the others while she slept. Her face was burning. She'd never given the book to Meredy to read, and all of a sudden she felt awfully protective of it. It was _her_ book. …Even if she hadn't read all of it herself.

"When I was little," Meredy responded. "I had the same book. But also…when we were at the monastery. I spent a lot of time in our room during the day, hiding from Lance… There wasn't much else to do, and you usually left your satchel there, so I just…helped myself. I'm sorry for not asking. I didn't think it would matter."

Charla opened and closed her mouth several times, but nothing came out. It shouldn't have mattered. She knew it shouldn't. But it did. As Meredy fixed her with a hard, anxious stare, she knew it did.

"I know there's nothing about the Night of Eternal Darkness in that book, Charla. So where did you hear it? You must have heard it recently, or you wouldn't be worrying about it now. Please tell me."

"I…" Charla gulped. She couldn't say. She _couldn't_. She hadn't been prepared for this!

"Was it the monks?" Meredy asked carefully. "Were they the ones who told you? Is that what you found out, that morning you went into the dream records?"

"I don't—I don't want to talk about it."

Meredy pressed her lips together, and the moonlight through the trees cast sharp shadows across her face. "You can't keep doing this, Charla. I want to help you, but I need to know. Am I right? Is this why you've been anxious all this time?"

"I told you I wasn't ready to talk about it!" Charla hissed, as the blood slowly drained from her face. "Leave me alone!"

A flicker of annoyance passed over Meredy's shadowed eyes. "Well, I'm sorry, but if you don't tell me now, I'll have no choice but to make it up myself! I know something is bothering you, I know you've been scared ever since you disappeared in the monastery that morning, and now I know that it could very well have something to do with an old dragon folktale that might be more fact than fiction! Do you want me to keep making guesses?"

Charla shrank back, wide-eyed and shaken. "N-no, I… What do you mean, more fact than fiction?"

There was a long, silent pause. Meredy hesitated, glancing around as if to make sure her outburst hadn't woken Nuala and Lance, but they were both still snoring. Charla wet her lips and breathed shakily. She was scared again. More scared than she'd been before talking to Nuala. She almost didn't want to know.

Meredy sighed. "How much do you know about the story?"

"Not…a lot…" Charla turned her eyes to the ground. "Pema didn't—" She froze. The name had slipped from her mouth without thought. But the damage was done now. She slumped her shoulders. "Pema didn't tell me much. She just said something about an eclipse and spirits rising from the dead and weird magic… She said something bad was going to happen, but she wouldn't say what."

"Something bad is _going_ to happen?" Meredy echoed, her voice rising an octave. "Charla, are you saying she saw a _vision_ of this eclipse?"

"No! Yes! W-well, she said a lot of monks saw visions of it. She said it was… She said it was going to happen soon."

"Soon, as in…?

"A month or two or something," Charla muttered. She cringed and decided not to mention the 'maybe as little as a few weeks' part.

Meredy stared at her for a moment, her face tight.

Charla raised her eyes and, clinging to the reassuring thought that Nuala's words had planted in her mind, stammered, "But it—it's just a story, right? It's not real. Right?"

"That's just it," Meredy murmured. "No one has ever been sure. Some say it's just a story, but others believe that it really did happen—and that it could happen again. And if the Sanghali monks have _foretold_ it, then… Then, no. It can't just be a story. It must be…" Her voice shook. "It must be real."

"But what is it, then?" Charla insisted. "It's just an eclipse! What's so bad about it? Pema wouldn't tell me!"

Meredy shook her head. "I don't know what it is that the monks foresaw, but I do know the story. When the Dark Master shattered the foundation of his mountain lair, he created a great pit in which lost and restless souls were trapped, never to escape, until the twisted magic of the Night of Eternal Darkness set them free…"

"Pema mentioned the Dark Master, too. She didn't want to tell me anything about him, though."

Meredy bit her lip, her eyes huge and frightened in the dark. "He's where the story starts. It's because of him and his awful magic that all those lost souls were trapped beneath the mountain. When the ancestors saw what he had done, they were angry. As a symbol of their wrath they pulled the moons together, casting the world into darkness, and set the spirits free to ravage his lair and bring retribution upon all those who dwelt inside the mountain.

"They say that's where it began. The Dark Master was already angry, because he had been exiled and shunned, but that was what made him declare war upon all dragons, in a fit of rage not just against his own kind but against his own ancestors. The Night of Eternal Darkness was where it all began."

Breathless, Charla thought back to the things that Pema had told her that morning in the monastery, recalling words she'd almost forgotten.

' _But of this vision, we know one thing for certain. The Night of Eternal Darkness has occurred before.'_

"But what will happen if it happens again?" she said. "The Dark Master is dead, isn't he? He lived over a thousand years ago!"

"I don't know, Charla. I never even considered the idea that the Night of Eternal Darkness would happen again—not in _my_ lifetime. It was just a scary story to me, when I was little." She lowered her gaze. "One of those stories that stuck with me, because nobody seemed to know whether it was real or not, like the Great Cleansing and the purple dragon…"

The purple dragon? Charla had never heard Meredy talk about that before. She was half tempted to ask what she thought of it, if she believed the rumours that the Dark Master had been a purple dragon, and that there had been a purple egg at the temple on the night of the raid. But there was a more pressing question on her tongue.

"What does it mean to…'bring retribution'?" She swallowed dryly. "What did the spirits do?"

"I don't really know. The stories were never clear. I always thought, well…that they killed the apes, or whoever was in the mountain at the time. They weren't normal spirits. The ancestors brought them back to life in a way, gave them back their magic, let them take solid form while the eclipse lasted…"

"You think they _kill_ the apes? But—but they're ghosts! They can't!"

Her breath hitched and stuck in her throat, and an awful image rose in her mind—an image of old, nigh-forgotten nightmares. Jayce and Silverback held in chains, helpless to flee or fight, as gruesome skeletal figures bore down upon them with murder in their undead eyes. They screamed at her for help—soundless, voiceless—as the flesh began to rot from their bones. Then Meredy grabbed her paw, squeezed it hard, and the vision vanished. Charla stared with lingering horror into her shadowed face.

"I don't know, Charla, I don't know!" she whispered. "The stories don't say. But please don't panic. It won't help. It's still a month away, isn't it? Is that what Pema said?"

"Y-yes, but—"

"Then we've got time!" Meredy's paws tightened around hers. "We're going to save your family before then, I promise. I _promise_."

Charla opened and closed her mouth like a fish out of water. "Y...you do?"

"Of course I do! Oh, Charla, I wish you'd told us about this before. All these setbacks we've been having… We shouldn't have stayed at the monastery for a whole week. Why didn't you say anything?"

"I… I just…" Charla gulped, shook her head, and stared incredulously into Meredy's eyes. "Aren't you scared? I thought, if I said anything, no one would want to come with me anymore. I thought…you'd want to leave."

Meredy faltered, her paws shaking against Charla's. Then she uttered a tiny, distressed whimper and pulled Charla into an awkward but warm embrace. Charla stiffened.

"I'm sorry," Meredy whispered. "I'm sorry you felt like that. I didn't think… I thought you knew we'd never leave you. You saved us. All of us. You're our friend. The least we can do is help you get your family back. N-no matter how dangerous it is…"

Oh, how Charla wished she could believe that. She pressed her forehead into Meredy's chest, smothering her voice in silky fur. "But you regret it. You wish you'd gone to Mistral instead. I know you do."

A startled pause. Meredy's sigh whispered over the top of her head. "Did Pema tell you that? Or are you just guessing? How transparent am I to you?"

Charla clenched her jaw and said nothing, but nor did she pull away. Meredy's paws tightened on her shoulders, as if she didn't want to let go. Their argument in the dream chamber seemed, at once, like it had just happened—and like it had happened years ago. The walls between them were crumbling.

"I'm struggling," Meredy admitted, so quietly that Charla wouldn't have heard if she hadn't been so close. "My magic is a mess, I'm _scared_ , I'm confused… And sometimes I think I made the wrong choice. Sometimes I think that you don't need me at all and I'm just making things worse by being here, and—"

Her voice caught, and Charla heard her breathing hitch and tremble. She wondered if Meredy was crying. She didn't want to see. Nor did she trust herself to say anything, because deep down she feared that Meredy was right. The violent magic, the loss of control, the fears and anxieties that turned her flighty, scared and unwilling…

Maybe it would be better if Meredy hadn't come with them. Maybe Lance was right. She wasn't made for this. Poor soft, sheltered Meredy… She should have been in Mistral, safe from the war, living a normal life.

Why had Charla asked her in the first place? _Why_ had she convinced Meredy to come with them?

Because she liked her?

Because she didn't want to leave anyone behind?

Because she didn't want Meredy to be sad?

Those were stupid reasons. And as they drew closer to the Well of Souls, as the Night of Eternal Darkness loomed before them, that became steadily clearer. Meredy shouldn't have come with them. And yet here she was, and there was no turning back now.

Or was there?

Charla pulled her face out of Meredy's fur and looked up. Their eyes met and Meredy's glistened wetly in the moonlight. Charla's tongue felt like sand in her mouth.

"You…don't have to come with us, you know," she said, and she felt strange and detached, as if the voice speaking wasn't hers. "You can go back to—"

"No!"

Charla gasped as Meredy gripped her by the shoulders, as her eyes turned wide and terrified.

"Charla, no! Don't say it! Don't tempt me!"

"I…"

"I want to come with you! I do!" Something in Meredy's face crumpled. Her mouth trembled, lines creased on her forehead, and tears began to well in her eyes. "I do, Charla! I do!"

Her voice broke.

Charla pressed a paw into her chest, her eyes stinging. "But…"

"I want to help you! I do! Please…" Meredy took a great shuddering breath and slumped to the ground, swiping the tears away with the back of her paw. "Please don't send me away. Please don't tell me to leave. I'm scared and I'm pathetic and I don't know how much help I can be, but please, _please_ …let me stay! Let me help you, a-any way I can. I'm trying, I really am! I'll do whatever you ask of me. I'll do anything…"

Tears blurred Charla's eyes. She had never seen Meredy like this. She felt like an executioner, like a killer poised with a blade against her victim's neck, but she had no will to take the final blow. Her head fell forward and halted with a dull thump, locking her horns with Meredy's.

"Why?" she breathed.

Meredy shuddered and Charla felt it through her horns. "Because you're my friend. You're all my friends. My only friends… If I can't help you, what good am I to anyone?"

Charla closed her eyes and slumped in the leaf litter, and for many long minutes they sat there in silence, their horns locked together, the night whispering around them. Lance and Nuala slept on, unknowing, and Charla knew that only the moons had been witness to Meredy's confession. They were alone. This was their secret.

"I don't want you to leave," she whispered against Meredy's scales. "You're my friend, too. B-but I'm putting everyone in danger and it's just going to get worse, and your magic… Your magic scares me."

"I know. It scares me, too… But please… Let me stay."

Charla swallowed and nodded shakily.

They went silent. Meredy raised her head, disentangling their horns. Their eyes met again, but neither knew what to say. Charla felt weak and tired, as if all the fight had left her, all magic drained away. Meredy's eyes were sad.

"I wish we hadn't met this way," she said. "I wish we could have been friends in a normal life, where there was no war, no death… I wish I'd known you years ago, in Zephyr, wh-when everything was normal. We could have read stories together, gone on our own silly adventures…gone flying together…"

Charla blinked the tears from her eyes. "D…do you think we can still do that one day? When everything is normal again?"

"I don't know if anything will ever be normal again… But I hope so. I really do."

Charla nodded and slowly stood up, releasing a deep and cleansing sigh. She wanted to feel like a weight had lifted from her shoulders, but she didn't. If anything, she felt like the whole world had begun to assemble itself piece by piece upon her back, and her paws shook with the weight of it. How could she do this? She was running out of time, putting her friends in danger, floundering in the dark…

She wished it could be over already. That Jayce could be with her. That they could be safe.

But that was a distant dream, and every day it seemed to grow further out of her reach.

Meredy stood up, smoothing her ruffled fur, composing herself. "You should tell the others. About the Night of Eternal Darkness, I mean. They deserve to know."

A thrill raced down Charla's spine. "What? No! Lance can't know! He'll just try to stop me again, I know he will!"

"He won't! He knows how important this is to you. He—"

"You didn't see what he was like in Warfang!" Charla twisted her tail and looked away. "I can't tell him. And you can't either, okay? Promise me you won't tell him!"

"But—"

"Promise me!" Charla's licked her fangs, her tongue dry with fear. "If you want to stay with us, then promise me! You can't tell him!"

Meredy faltered, hurt flashing in her eyes, as if Charla had actually hit her—but Charla was too frightened to take back the poorly implied threat. Lance must not find out. He _mustn't_.

"I…" Meredy's throat bobbed. "Alright, Charla. I won't breathe a word. But please… At least think about telling him. He needs to know. He needs to know we're running out of time."

Charla stared at the ground, not trusting herself to respond. Meredy hesitated. Then—

"I'm working on my magic. I'm going to learn how to control it again, so that neither one of us has to be scared of it anymore. Okay, Charla? Do you believe me?"

Charla just nodded. Meredy's paws shuffled away through the fallen leaves. Her voice drifted back, soft as the nighttime breeze.

"And I hope you can learn how to trust your friends," she said. "We've come this far with you and that has to count for something. We're never going to leave you, no matter what happens. I hope one day you can believe that. …Good night, Charla."

"Good night," she whispered back.

And as the silence fell around her, as the moons glared like fire into the depths of her soul, she dearly wished she could believe it. She wished it with all her heart. She wished that her friends would stay with her, that Jayce and Silverback would be safe and well when she found them again, that one day everything would be back to the way it used to be. Life had never been normal or even safe—she'd known that for a long time now—but it had _felt_ like it once. And she wished it would feel like that again.

Most of all, she wished that she would never be alone again. But the stars were choked by shadowed clouds, and she had no idea if the ancestors heard her at all.


	21. You Know I Can't Trust

**Chapter 21**

 **You Know I Can't Trust**

"Meredy heard us last night."

It was the first thing Charla blurted out when she next found herself alone with Nuala. By that time, another day had come and gone, and night was again creeping upon them. They'd spent most of the day travelling the final stretch of the forest, and, as the sun began to set, had broken through the treeline and caught their first look at the Jordian Grasslands.

It was a wild, rugged land. These were not the smooth rolling hills of the Northern Plains. Here the earth was jagged and twisted, grassy knolls cut through by scars of rock and ugly stone formations, curling in on themselves like the slumped forms of sleeping monsters. In the deep, craggy valleys between hills it was difficult to see the way ahead, and the Shimmerscale River was their only guide. Even the rising mountains of Westwing Range were not yet visible on the horizon. Charla wondered when they would be.

And what of the apes that Lance had mentioned? There was no sign of them yet, but this twisted, empty land left a nervous hollow in Charla's gut. Something told her it was not as deserted as it appeared.

"She what now?" Nuala called back distractedly, looking down from her perch at the top of a tall crag of rock. She waved for Charla to join her. "Come have a look."

Feeling a little stupid and warm-faced, Charla flew up and landed with a skitter of claws at Nuala's side. Nuala pointed away into the hills, where a small group of jackalopes were grazing in a patch of weed.

"Tomorrow's breakfast, you reckon?" she said.

Charla hummed in half-hearted agreement. She didn't really feel like hunting. The only reason they were here was because Nuala wanted to be, and Charla had come along because she'd wanted an excuse to get away from Lance and Meredy for a while. She wanted to talk to someone about what had happened last night, and there was no one for that but Nuala. Unfortunately, Nuala only had magic on the brain.

"Let's get going, then," she said, hopping up to her usual place on Charla's back. "Looks like it's going to rain soon."

It was also very quickly getting dark, though sunset had not yet ended. Thick grey clouds hung heavy in the air, engulfing the sky in a seamless blanket of gloom, and Charla could hear thunder rolling faintly in the distance. Her scales prickled.

"Lance said we have to be back before dark," she muttered, but Nuala scoffed.

"And go back with empty paws? We gotta catch at least _something_. Come on, it'll be easy with our magic."

Charla didn't move. The wind whipped around them, heavy and damp, thick with the scent of rain.

It was a wonder Lance had let them go in the first place. It wasn't like they needed food—they'd stopped to hunt earlier in the day—and he'd only relented because Charla had begged and pleaded until she'd driven him mad. When he'd finally let her go, thanks in no small amount to Meredy using her windsense to check for apes, Nuala had rolled her eyes and told her to stop asking his permission all the time.

"He doesn't own you," she'd said. "You're your own dragon. Take some initiative for once."

Charla didn't know what initiative was, though she did like the sound of being her own dragon. But Lance got mad whenever she did something he didn't like—and with everything going on at the moment, making Lance angry was the last thing she wanted.

She looked over her shoulder, back towards the treeline, where the forest met the plains and where Lance and Meredy were waiting for them. Truthfully, going back right now sounded just as unappealing to her as going hunting. She wanted someone to talk to. Someone she could trust. Someone who wouldn't get mad at her if she spilled all her secrets.

But as much as she wanted to believe what Meredy had told her last night, she knew that she didn't. She was scared to trust her friends. And she was more certain than ever that Lance must not find out.

Nuala prodded the back of her neck. "Yoo hoo, earth to Charla. You still with me?"

Charla huffed. "Sorry. I was…thinking about stuff…"

Nuala leaned around to see her face, hooking a paw over one of Charla's horns. "I get the feeling you're not really into this right now. Something eating you, Char? What'd you say about Merry before?"

Charla averted her eyes. A raindrop plinked off the bridge of her snout, sharp and cold. She shivered.

"Meredy heard us last night," she repeated. "She wasn't sleeping."

"Right little eavesdropper, isn't she?" Nuala smirked. "What's the prob? We didn't say anything weird, did we? She doesn't know about our, uh...little magic thing, does she? I don't remember saying anything about that…"

"N-no, nothing about that." A cold feeling settled in her chest. Meredy didn't know about that yet, but wasn't it only a matter of time? She knew Charla's other secrets. She'd known when Nuala had tried to keep secrets from her before. She knew something was going on. And the more time they spent together, the more Charla felt that keeping secrets from Meredy was like keeping secrets from the wind. She would hear. She always heard.

Nuala flipped her tail back and forth. "So, what's wrong? Don't keep me in suspense."

"It's nothing," Charla said quickly, because she hoped it was. "It's just that thing I told you about, the Night of Eternal Darkness. She, um… She knows about it. She knew the story."

"Yeah, she's a bit of a folktale nut. Doesn't surprise me. But what's the big deal? You're not still freaking out about it, are you? I told you last night, it's just a dumb story. We've got, you know, _real_ things to worry about. Like apes."

"But this _is_ real! Meredy said it was real!" Charla stamped her paws and huffed. She was getting cold, and tiny droplets were striking infrequently at her scales. The last sunlight was disappearing. "She said it wasn't just a story…"

Nuala raised an eyebrow.

With a noise somewhere between a groan and a sigh, Charla plopped onto her haunches and bowed her head. Nuala uttered a small noise of surprise, slid down her back, and jumped off. Charla didn't look at her.

"Look…" she mumbled to her paws. "I didn't find the story in my book. Pema told me about it. Back at the monastery."

And then she told Nuala everything. The carving on the wall, the vague warning Pema had given her, the story Meredy had told. The fear that Jayce and Silverback were in more danger than she'd realised, and that time was running out.

When she had finished, Nuala was silent for a moment. Then she uttered a short laugh like a scoff and said, "Dang. You dragons sure don't mess around with your folktales. Seems a bit brutal for kids, doesn't it?"

Then she hopped neatly into the space between Charla's paws and smirked. "But it still just sounds like a dumb old story to me. Who cares what the clairvoyants say? Not like all their visions come true."

"But—"

"And even if it is true," Nuala continued sharply, "so what? What are you gonna do about it? Turn away? Give up? That doesn't sound like you, Char."

Charla blushed and averted her eyes again, but Nuala grabbed her by the chin and pulled her back.

"You know what I think we're gonna do?" she said. "I think we're gonna keep going, just like always. And when we get there, we're gonna blaze on through that mountain, rescue your monkey uncles, and show Gaul who's boss. And if any of these 'undead spirits' get in our way, we're gonna burn them up, too. That's what I think."

Charla swallowed. Nuala was right, of course. But…

"I just don't want Lance to find out," she mumbled. "Meredy wasn't supposed to find out, and now she thinks I should tell him, too. But I know he'll try to stop me if he finds out. I know he will. Just like he did in Warfang…"

"Is that what you're freaking out about?"

Nuala huffed and let her go, hovering back a few paces. Her ear flicked as if something had stung it, and a second later Charla felt another drop of rain strike her above the eye. Thunder rumbled again, muted and distant. Were the jackalopes still down in the valley?

"I'm just scared she'll tell him," she admitted, glancing back the way they'd come.

"Meredy's no master of the sealed lips," Nuala said with a dry smirk. "But I don't think she's that bad. And even if she does tell him… What can he do, Char? Yell at you?"

"He'll probably try to take me to Jordguard." She looked to the horizon as she said it, a shiver rolling down her spine. He would, wouldn't he? This wasn't like Warfang. Here, they were almost on the doorstep of his old home. It was right there, over the hills, just beyond the horizon…

"And you'll let him do that?"

"No!" Charla jerked her head back around. "But he… What if he leaves? Because I won't go with him?"

"If he'll leave that easily, then good riddance." Nuala fluttered closer again, her eyes glowing in the gloom. "Clearly he doesn't care enough to help you, in that case. You don't need friends like that."

She said it so casually, and yet the words stabbed at Charla like blades. Something ached deep in her throat, and she winced and shied away. She didn't want to believe that. Not about Lance.

Lance was the first friend she'd ever made, the one who'd stuck with her right from the start, the one who, at least for a while, she'd trusted more than anyone. He'd always been there for her. Things had changed between them after Warfang, true, but she didn't want to believe that he'd give up on her so easily. She wanted to believe he'd stay with her no matter what. She wanted to trust him with everything.

And yet, as all these secrets built up inside her, she realised that she didn't. She couldn't. And that made her feel so very alone.

"But he's not your only friend, Char," Nuala said softly. "You've got me now. Even if he and Merry leave, you've still got me. That's not gonna change."

Charla swallowed and looked into Nuala's eyes. "Do you really mean it, though? Wouldn't you leave me too? If I…did something wrong…"

"Don't be dumb, Char. There's nothing you could do that would make me leave. We're in this together, even if it's just us against the world." She grinned. "Whether you believe it or not, you're stuck with me for good."

Charla rubbed her eyes and managed a shaky smile. "D-do you really think we could do it on our own? Just us?"

"Of course. You and I? We can do anything." She patted Charla's breastbone. "All the power we need, we've got it right here. We don't need anything else."

They gazed at each other across a charged moment of silence, and thunder boomed again, closer than before. Charla's scales rattled. Rain began to fall more steadily.

Nuala smirked. "You do trust me on that, right?"

"I do!" Charla insisted, and then said it again to assure herself it was true. "I do."

"Then stop worrying so much. Lance might not even find out about this spooky eclipse thing, and even if he does, it's not the end of the world. We're in this till the end, Char, whether anyone's with us or not. You and me, no matter what. That's all that matters."

Charla took a deep breath and nodded. Some of the weight lifted off her back, melting into the rain. Nuala was with her. Nuala would stay with her. Even if she could trust nothing else, she trusted that.

With a grin, Nuala looped around and landed lightly on her back, digging her claws into the scales between Charla's horns. "Now, how about we go catch us one of those jackalopes before this rain gets any worse? You'll be glad of it in the morning, trust me."

Charla grinned too. And as she galloped down the hill with Nuala on her shoulders, as Nuala's magic bled its cold power into the fires of her soul, some part of her fears fled away like smoke into the storm.

As long as she had Nuala, everything would be fine.

As long as she had Nuala, she could do this.

* * *

They returned a little after dark, drenched and laughing, with two large jackalopes draped over Charla's withers. By that time it was raining heavily, Meredy's windwhispers had gotten lost in the downpour, and Lance wasn't happy.

"I told you before dark!" he snapped as they appeared out of the gloom and rejoined their friends under the cover of the trees. "We thought something had happened to you! What if it had?"

"Yeah, well, it didn't," said Nuala. "And we caught you some breakfast, big guy! I'll accept grovelling as thanks."

He glared at her with more venomosity than Charla was used to, and she flinched when he swiped the jackalope off her back. His eyes softened a little as they met hers, but something about that look made her uneasy. He marched away into the forest.

"Come away from the treeline," he called back. "We'll get drenched if we stay here. Unless you want to sleep in the rain—in which case, be my guest, fox. Maybe it'll clean up your rotten attitude."

"Go eat a rock, jerk."

Charla caught Meredy's anxious gaze but quickly looked away again, the back of her neck prickling with shame and unease. Then Nuala swept by her, following Lance deeper into the trees, and Charla steadied herself with a surge of defiance. Nuala was right. She'd done nothing wrong. She was her own dragon. She was allowed to make her own decisions, to keep secrets.

But she didn't try to meet Meredy's eyes again.

That night at the edge of the forest was a wet and uncomfortable one. The rain fell almost without end, sometimes heavy, sometimes light, but more than enough to break through the canopy and turn the leaf litter into soup. Charla slept fitfully, waking often to the distant roaring of thunder in the sky and mud all over her scales. She wished she was light enough to sleep in the trees like Nuala.

Yet her restless sleep brought with it no dreams, or none that she could remember, and she woke slightly less exhausted than yesterday when the sun peered its watery light between the branches. They shared the jackalopes and moved on, but not before a quick wash in the river—an endeavour that only Nuala refused to partake in.

It drizzled on and off well into the morning, so it was in grey gloom that they left Whisperglade for the last time and headed out into the Jordian Grasslands. Lance and Meredy kept their heads down and shoulders hunched, but Charla quickly stopped caring about the rain and raced ahead with Nuala on her back.

There was no flying—not in these open lands, where apes would see them from miles away—and nor was there much to see. The jackalopes gave them a wide berth, and there was still no sign of the apes that supposedly called these plains home. When Charla asked Lance, he told her their city sat further west, near the point where the river forked.

"We'll make a detour before that," he said, "head overland and meet up with the southern arm further along. We don't want to get too close to any ape settlements."

So they carried on, slow and wet, keeping lookout from the tops of taller hills and craggy outcrops for apes or anything that might suggest they were nearby. Charla kept an eye on the horizon, too, wondering if she'd be able to see Jordguard when Westwing Range finally came into view. If things were different, she would have liked to see it for real. To see the only place that Lance had ever called home…

Close to dark, they started seeking shelter for the night, and Nuala managed to pull Charla away from the others again—this time by offering to scout ahead in search of a safe place to sleep. Lance wasn't happy to let them go, but Charla took Nuala's advice and took off without waiting for his permission this time. He didn't try to follow, and she was left buzzing with a strange mixture of shame and excitement.

She and Nuala stopped to hunt on the way, their combined magic making quick work of any jackalope that crossed their path. And when they returned to the others with breakfast for tomorrow and news of a small copse of trees further down the river—the best shelter they were going to find in these parts—even Lance couldn't be mad. But he did give Charla that same odd look he'd given her yesterday, and she was left worrying that Meredy might have said something to him.

He didn't suspect that she and Nuala were up to something, did he?

The thought made her stomach turn. But Lance did not attempt to say anything about it, and she buried those worries inside her.

They moved on early the next morning, and from there, their days on the Jordian Grasslands became an endless rhythm of travel under pale grey skies. The clouds rarely cleared, and rain fell on and off, so their many long hours of walking remained slow, cold and wet.

Charla yearned for something to break the monotony, for this bare and broken land to yield something on the horizon, something to aim for. Dreams continued to plague her without end. Some nights she slept in peace, but others she awoke shivering, her paws sweating, her vision full of violet flame. Her body was heavy with secrets and fears, her paws were sore of trudging, and the path ahead seemed only to grow longer. In this dreary winter gloom, Nuala became her only spark of light.

Every chance they had, they snuck away together. They hunted, they scouted, they spent nights whispering when everyone else was asleep. And in every secret moment they could find, they practiced sharing magic.

They were getting better at it, Charla thought. They were gaining control, at least to some degree, over how much of their fire was real and how much was illusion. They were doing things with fire that she had never seen nor heard of before. At one point during a hunt, a jackalope had almost escaped them—and for a split second their flames had taken on a different shape, a shape that had chased down the jackalope like a doppelganger formed of fire. Charla didn't know whether she or Nuala had made that happen, but did it really matter?

 _They_ had made it happen, and that meant they were gaining control.

But the best thing, perhaps, was that she was starting to lose the panic. The last few times they had tried, it had barely been there. A sting of fear, a feeble kick of the mind, until Nuala settled in and calmed her. Maybe soon, there wouldn't be any panic at all.

Yet this, too, brought with it more problems. The more time Charla spent with Nuala, the more that dark and brooding cloud settled like a stormfront over Lance's head. He had stopped trying to berate her every time she ran off without asking, but the looks he gave her were grim and thoughtful, and somehow that unnerved Charla more.

She knew something was up. But whether it was because of her and Nuala, or because of the growing threat of apes, she couldn't tell for sure. He had begun to rely on Meredy's windsense more and more lately, and every night and morning he asked her to check for danger on the wind. Just in case, he said. Just in case.

But nothing changed until a few days into their trek across the grasslands, when Westwing Range finally appeared on the horizon like the ghostly teeth of some giant dragon.

"We're close to the fork in the river," Lance told them that afternoon, pulling out the map. "We'll have to make a detour soon, head south away from this arm of the river… If we get any closer to the ape settlement there, we'll be in trouble. I'm surprised we haven't run into any scouting parties yet."

"Maybe there aren't any apes there anymore," Nuala said with a yawn. "Probably all gone to join the army and kill things. You know how apes are."

Charla shuffled uncomfortably and saw Meredy give her a sympathetic look. Her face warmed. She hadn't talked to Meredy much since that night back in the forest. Nuala made it easy to forget about all the secrets and fears that were churning inside of her, but every time she looked at Meredy, they all came rushing back. Meredy made her feel like she was being peeled apart, exposed like an open wound, whether she wanted it or not. And the thought of that happening in front of _Lance_ … That terrified her.

Of course, that wasn't the only thing that scared her about Meredy.

"Can you check?" Lance asked a moment later, folding the map back into his satchel. "We'll stay here tonight if it's safe and leave the river in the morning."

By 'here' he meant the hill that loomed above them, which was all twisted and stooped on one side, creating a shallow overhang of exposed rock. It wouldn't offer much protection if it rained—or from apes, if they came up on them from the wrong side—but the rugged land around them was flat and open and there was nothing to offer better shelter.

Meredy nodded and closed her eyes, drawing herself up with a long, slow breath. Charla watched with trepidation. Somehow, Meredy using magic made her more nervous than the idea of apes being close by. Sure, she hadn't had any accidents lately, but she was using magic now more than ever. What if something went wrong?

What if, when she did sense an ape, she got scared and lost control?

She didn't know how Lance could trust her so easily, but then _he_ hadn't seen what Charla had. He hadn't seen the vision in the pool. He didn't know what Meredy was really capable of. But if he would just be willing to use his own earthsense, they wouldn't even _need_ Meredy to…

She let the thought trail away guiltily.

"There's something," Meredy said at last, opening her eyes, "but it's very faint. Far away. A disturbance in the wind… I think it might be that ape settlement you mentioned. It's much further along the river. I doubt we could even see it."

"But no apes nearby?" Lance asked.

Meredy shook her head. "There's something moving over that way, but it's small. Just an animal, I think. Nothing else."

"Sounds like tomorrow's breakfast to me," Nuala said at once, wiping her mouth as she sat up from drinking at the river. "How about it, Char? Let's hunt before it gets dark."

Charla had been about to flop onto her side and give her weary paws a rest, but she stifled a groan and pushed herself up again. These dreary days of travel were taking a toll, and she wished she could go to sleep already, even with the sun still blazing above the horizon. But she knew from experience that Nuala didn't take 'no' for an answer, and besides, a bit of fresh magic would make her feel better.

She stretched and shook out her limbs, hoping the hunt would be quick today—and then Lance sat up.

"Hang on a minute, kid," he said. "How about I go with you today, give the fox a break? Can't have the smallest among us doing all of our hunting. I'm starting to feel like I'm not pulling my weight."

He wore a dry smile, a rarity for him these days, and Charla felt the first inklings of dread. If Nuala did too, she didn't show it.

"You do plenty, big guy," she said with a grin, "even for someone with all that extra weight. Haven't you got stuff to do with Merry? Char and I are fine."

"Meredy needs a break." He spoke without missing a beat, as if he'd anticipated this. "We all do, one way or another. Stay and get some rest, fox. You've earned it. And I'd like to loosen up a bit, sharpen my hunting skills. Can't have you and the kid doing all the work for me."

Nuala raised her eyebrows, and a little of the cheerful confidence flaked off her face. "Let's all go, then. The three of us. Char can help me hunt and you can go on your own; we'll catch twice as much."

"And leave Meredy here alone?" Lance's forehead twitched, a brief furrow creasing his brow. "Stay here, Nuala. Charla and I won't be gone long."

So saying, he turned to Charla and added, "Come on, kid. Let's go before we lose the jackalopes."

Charla hesitated, glancing at Nuala. A dark look passed like a cloud over Nuala's face, but it was gone in a second, expertly smoothed away. With apparent apathy, she shrugged and turned her back. "Okay, whatever, I'll stay here with Merry. You two have fun now."

Then her eyes flicked back, grazing Charla's face with an unmistakable look—one that said, quite clearly, ' _Don't give anything away.'_

Heat prickled up Charla's neck. Seemed she didn't have much of a choice.

Tearing her eyes from Nuala's, she followed Lance along the riverbank and around the curve of the hill, leaving her and Meredy behind. She shuffled her wings as they went, shooting nervous looks at Lance and his impassive expression. Not for the first time, she wished he was easier to read.

Did he know what she and Nuala were up to? Was that why he insisted on coming?

Was he angry with her?

She ran her tongue over her fangs and looked back, but Nuala and Meredy were out of sight now, hidden by the rising earth. Her shoulders fell. Lance plodded steadily alongside her, unspeaking, and for many long minutes they made their way down the river in silence, until Charla caught the scent of jackalope. As she fidgeted and looked around, Lance ushered them into the shadow of a craggy hill.

"Follow me," he murmured as he began to climb. "Quietly."

Stifling a grimace, Charla picked her way to the top of the hill after him, winding over uneven earth with practiced ease. She supposed the jackalope must be down in the valley beyond, and Lance wanted to sneak up on it.

If Nuala was here, they wouldn't have needed to 'sneak' at all. Everything was so much easier with illusions…

Feeling sulky, she joined him at the top of the hill and crouched at his side in a patch of bramble. Blunted thorns poked her scales and scratched her wings, but somehow Lance didn't seem to care. His eyes were on something further down the other side of the hill—the jackalope, grazing around the brambles, as yet unaware of its doom.

"There it is," he muttered to her. "We'll have to be quick. You're faster than I am… Think you can get around it and chase it back in my direction?"

Charla fought the urge to huff. If she was with Nuala, they could just use _magic_ to chase it towards them. Why did she have to do all the leg work? "Yeah, I guess."

"Off you go, then. I'll wait here."

Hiding her scowl, Charla wriggled through the brambles and snaked her way down the side of the hill, affording the jackalope a wide berth, making sure she came at it from downwind. It was moving slowly, lifting its head and swiveling its long ears every few moments, and the setting sun glinted on its twiggy horns. She watched its legs, long and sinewy, tensed to spring at a moment's notice, and held her breath.

Maybe if she shot a fireball at it…

Her paw slipped and she stumbled slightly, not enough to lose her balance, but enough to make the brambles shiver. The jackalope's ears shot upright and so did its head, scanning for danger. Charla hesitated. It would settle or it would flee; there was no telling which—and if it fled, she would have only seconds to react. She wasn't taking the risk.

She shot from her hiding place without caring for subtly, and the jackalope took off in almost the same moment. In a blur of tawny fur, it bounded across the slope of the hill, homing in on the safety of the brambles on the other side. Charla pumped her legs to catch up, to herd it up the hill towards Lance, but it was too fast and her angle too shallow—it darted off in the wrong direction and she couldn't hope to catch up.

But just as she had given it up for a hopeless cause, wishing bitterly for Nuala's magic, Lance's voice cut the breeze.

"Comet dash it!" he yelled from the hilltop. "Overtake it!"

Charla faltered, still running, watching the jackalope draw further away from her. Comet dash? She couldn't even control her comet dash properly! She hadn't even tried it since…

But there was no time to question. She wanted that jackalope and she was going to get it.

She bunched her shoulders and sprinted. Her paws thundered across the earth, her body stretched out like she was flying, and she let her mana rise from its pool and fill her up from the inside out. Heat blossomed through her scales, smoke curled between her talons—and then she was blazing like a shooting star, a cone of fire, and nothing could stand in her way.

The world blurred around her as she shot forward faster than an arrow could fly, closing the distance between her and the jackalope with a crackling roar that drowned out everything else. Flames blinded her, burning bright, warping the air; through the haze, she saw the jackalope's white tail flicking right before her eyes, inches away.

Then it kicked out and swerved, back up the hill, dodging her flaming claws with the dexterity only a jackalope could have. Charla gasped and dug her paws in, trying to turn, to control her fiery charge—but it was no use. The force carried her forward whether she wanted it to or not, her claws caught in the craggy earth, and then the world flipped on its head. Tail over horns, she hit the ground and rolled, bouncing, skidding, flailing for purchase, her vision a whirlpool of fire, grass and mud.

Somewhere far away, she thought she heard a high-pitched squeal of pain, alarmingly cut short. Then her body skidded to a halt in the brambles and she lay still, gasping.

Her fires were out. Dazed, breathless and aching, she kept her eyes closed until the world had stopped spinning, and moments later she heard the unmistakable thud of Lance's approaching paws. Charla cracked an eye open.

The jackalope was hanging from his jaws, cleanly killed. He raised his eyebrows.

"Well, it worked," he said, dropping the carcass at his paws. "To an extent. Okay there, kid? That was some tumble you took."

"M'fine…" Charla grimaced and pushed herself up, wincing as she moved each limb. Nothing seemed broken, though there was blood beading along thin scratches on her wing membranes. From the brambles, probably. Her head was still spinning.

Lance steaded her with a wing. "That comet dash looked just as chaotic as it did last time. You have been practicing, haven't you?"

Blood rushed to Charla's cheeks. "Of course I have! I've just…"

 _Been busy practicing something else._

"...had trouble."

She turned her face away, pretending to inspect the scratches on her wings, her stomach bubbling with shame. She _had_ been neglecting all the things Lance had taught her lately. Until now, she'd almost forgotten about them, too caught up in Nuala's experiments, in the thrill and excitement of sharing magic. Nuala made her feel so much more _powerful_.

On her own, struggling to control comet dashes and fireballs, she felt stupid and childish. But even if she could tell Lance that, she didn't think he'd understand.

He exhaled softly. "Sorry, kid. I know I haven't been helping you lately."

"It doesn't matter," she said in a rush, a spark of guilt pulsing through her. It wasn't his fault. "You've been busy with Meredy."

"And you've been busy with Nuala."

He said it calmly, so matter-of-fact, but Charla still felt a cold thrill of fear slide down her spine. He _was_ suspicious. He knew they were up to something. But before she could think of what to say, Lance shook his head

"Let's keep going," he said, making a shallow scrape in the earth to bury their prey. "We'll come back for this later. One jackalope isn't going to stretch far between the four of us."

Even though she would have rather gone back immediately, jackalope or no jackalope, Charla nodded. She didn't think Lance was in the mood for disagreements, and she desperately didn't want to make him mad. For all she knew, he was already angry—just waiting for the right moment to tell her off.

Hunching her shoulders, she trailed after him. The air was heavy and cold, and the clouds threatened rain again, laying a blanket of grey gloom over the grasslands. As they reached the peak of another hill, she gazed out over the jagged land and wondered just how far it went, how distant were the ghostly teeth of Westwing Range. How close was Jordguard now? How far would she have to run?

How easy would it be for Lance to leave her, to give up, to go home?

She shuddered. It was the last thing she wanted to imagine.

As if he'd sensed her thoughts, Lance brushed her shoulder with his wing and spoke softly. "Listen, kid. There's a reason I wanted to come hunting with you today. There's…some things I wanted to talk to you about. Alone."

Charla swallowed. "Like what?"

"Like what's been going on between you and Nuala."

There it was. Charla's voice stuck in her throat for a panicked second, but she forced it out. "There's nothing—!"

Lance held up a paw, and something about the look on his face made her voice die on her tongue. He didn't look angry. It was something else. "You've been spending a lot of time with her lately. More than I'd like. And I'll be honest, kid… It worries me."

"Why?" She steadied herself, tried to be calm.

He hesitated, his eyes searching her face, and Charla saw something in his expression that she hadn't seen in ages. He was anxious. He was worried about…her.

"This is…difficult to put into words," he said. "But I don't think Nuala is good for you. I know that she and I don't get along very well, and you know that too, but this isn't about that. Nuala is… She has a lot of damage. She's gone through a greater tragedy than any of us, losing not just her family but her entire species, and these experiences have…had an impact. That much is clear. She's angry, she's desperate, she's filled with this petty desire for revenge. And one way or another, she's dragging you into it."

Heat blossomed up Charla's neck, a thrill of indignation. "It's not like she's _making_ me do anything. She's helping me and I'm helping her, so what's wrong with that?"

"What's wrong with it?" Lance looked down at her with steely eyes, the corners of his mouth growing taut. "What's wrong with it is that you're still a child. And the worst part is that Nuala doesn't seem to realise that. She forgets it. She looks at you and she sees a dragon, a _weapon_. And—"

"So what? I _am_ a dragon! Not just some…dumb kid! She treats me like an equal, unlike _you_!"

"And that's exactly what worries me!"

Lance sighed and lowered his head closer to hers, but Charla stubbornly averted her eyes. Of course this was what Lance thought. Why was she not surprised? He'd only ever seen her as a stupid child.

"Charla… I know you don't want to hear it, but whether you like it or not, you are still a child. You're only twelve. I'll be twenty soon, and even that's four years from coming of age! You're barely halfway there. There's so much life you haven't lived yet, so many experiences you still haven't had, so much you still have left to learn about yourself, about the world, about everything." He touched his wingclaw to the base of her chin, pulling her face back, his eyes soft again. "There's nothing wrong with that."

Charla clenched her jaw and said nothing.

"What _is_ wrong," Lance said softly, "is expecting too much of you. Treating you like an adult, acting like you've got all this knowledge and power that you just haven't learned yet, is wrong. All of _this_ is wrong. Being out here in the wilds, struggling to survive, hiding from certain death… We're all just kids, Charla. You, me and Meredy. We're still kids, and this shouldn't be expected of us."

' _So what?'_ she wanted to say. ' _We_ are _here. I_ do _have to do this. And if you don't like it, then… then…'_

"What about Nuala?" she mumbled, pulling away from Lance's touch. "She's only ten."

"But she's not a dragon. She's a vulpala. Their lives are a lot faster than ours, and even at ten she's older than any of us. She's old enough to live on her own, to have children if she wanted to, if she could. She's not a child anymore. And I think she forgets that you still are."

"But so what?" Charla burst out, unable to contain it any longer. She hated this. It made no sense—and yet it did, and it was something she didn't want to hear. "What's so bad about that? I don't want her to treat me like a kid! I _like_ that she treats me like I'm an adult, like I'm equal to her! And I _can_ do everything she asks of me, whether you think I can or not. I'm not useless, Lance! I can take care of myself!"

"She's putting you in danger! She's—" He broke off with a huff, straightened up again, and his shadow fell like a shroud of darkness upon her. "I don't know what it is that you two have been doing together, but I know that it can't be anything good. Meredy's worried. I think she has a better idea than I do, but even she doesn't know what's going on with you two. She thinks something is troubling you. She thinks you might be putting yourself in danger."

A spike of fear and anger pulsed through Charla's gut. Meredy _had_ said something to him. Of course she had. Of _course_ she had. She couldn't trust anyone anymore! She gritted her teeth.

Lance's shoulders fell and his voice softened. "We're worried about you, kid. We're worried about both of you. And I'm worried that Nuala cares more about getting her revenge than she does about your wellbeing."

"She's my friend!"

"Aren't we, too?"

She faltered, her eyes stinging, a lump in her throat. The air seemed heavier than ever, and she wished it would break—wished the skies would open and flood the plains and put an end to all this. Wished the thunder in her chest would roar and boom, shatter the unbearable tension and let her scream.

She didn't believe any of this. Nuala was her friend. Nuala cared about her. Nuala treated her like she was more than just a dumb kid, and that was _good_. That was what she _wanted_.

It was Lance who was wrong. Lance who kept trying to hold her back. Lance who looked at her and saw only a child, who didn't understand how much Jayce and Silverback meant to her—and how nothing else mattered but saving them, no matter the cost.

Maybe Nuala was right. Maybe she didn't need a friend like that.

"You're drifting away from me, kid."

His voice was soft, sad, and tinged with regret. Charla winced and lifted her head. Their eyes met.

"Every day it feels like we're getting further apart," he said. "Ever since Warfang. I thought we'd patched things up after that. Things seemed okay back at the monastery, and I thought you trusted me again. But it's like something happened to you back there in the forest. You and Nuala started whispering together, disappearing together, and bit by bit you started closing off to me again.

"And now… It's like you don't trust me at all. It's like I'm a stranger to you. And I don't know what to do. I don't know what you want from me, Charla. All I want is to keep you safe."

"I don't…" Charla choked and gulped on the lump in her throat. "I don't need you to keep me safe. I want you to trust _me_. I want you to help me. I d-don't know if I can tell you anything anymore, because I'm scared you'll get angry and leave me, o-or I'll have to leave you like I did in Warfang because you just don't get it! You don't understand what this means to me! You don't know how important this is to me!"

"And Nuala does?"

"Yes! She does! She promised she'd never leave me, no matter what happens! She—"

"I promised that too, didn't I?"

He sounded so tired, so sad, that Charla fell silent at once, gulping on nothing. Her eyes were burning, but there were no tears. Lance gazed down at her, unwavering.

"But how do I know that you meant it?" she said. "H-how do I know you won't just…give up on me again? How do I know you won't get mad at me again? How do I know you'll understand?"

He shook his head. "You don't, Charla. That's where trust comes in. And I don't know when it happened, but it's clear that I don't have yours."

"Well, I don't have yours, either!"

Silence. Her shouted words hung in the heavy air, echoing between them, a barrier of sound. She swallowed hard. Why did he have to look like that? That damn impassive mask of stone, unreadable but for the cracks around the eyes. Why couldn't he just yell at her, like he had once, like she wanted him to? This cold, sad disappointment hurt more than she could bear. She could yell and scream, but the wall would never break.

"You think I'm going to run away again," she spat. "But you know the only reason I did that was because you _forced_ me to. How am I supposed to trust you if I know you might do it again? You don't think I can do this. You think I'm just a useless child. How can I trust someone like that?"

"All I want is for you to be safe."

"I don't want to be safe!" she cried. "I want to be _happy_! I want to be with Jayce! Nuala understands, so why can't _you_?"

He said nothing, but his eyes were like storms, brewing with unspoken words, with concealed emotions, with things she didn't want to hear. Unable to look at him any longer, she whirled around and marched back the way they'd come, flicking her tailblade behind her.

"Charla!" he called after her, but she gritted her teeth and broke into a run.

"I'm going back," she yelled as she went. "Go hunt on your own!"

And she didn't stop to listen to his response, if he even had one. She just kept running, back across the grasslands, back to Nuala, back to the only one who understood her—the only one she knew she could trust.


	22. Fight or Flight

**A/N: Breaking my author's note silence just to say thanks for all the reviews lately. I haven't been replying very much, so I just wanted to let you all know I really appreciate it and every review makes my day. Thanks so much for taking the time to write one!**

* * *

 **Chapter 22**

 **Fight or Flight**

Everything was a mess.

If Charla was sure of anything, it was that. When she came storming back to Nuala and Meredy without Lance or prey or anything to show for their hunting trip except the hot tears in her eyes, they were understandably startled. Meredy sat up quickly and Nuala went tense, but all Charla could do was huff and snort and try to get her feelings under control.

She was so _angry_. Her insides burned like they did when she was overloaded with magic, but this anger didn't make her want to set everything on fire. This made her want to scream and cry and tear out her own horns because _nothing was going right._

 _Why_ were her friends like this?

 _Why_ was she always treated this way?

 _Why_ couldn't they all just _trust_ that she knew what she was doing and stop acting like she was some useless, frightened kid who needed to be protected?

She'd had enough!

"Charla? Charla, what happened?" Meredy insisted, her voice both timid and urgent. "Where's Lance? Is he okay?"

"He's fine," Charla spat, and then the lump caught in her throat and she choked, blinking furiously. "H-he's…h-hunting on his own."

She gritted her teeth and swiped the tears from her eyes, turning her face away, but that wasn't enough to stop Meredy pushing further.

"Did something happen?" she asked. "Are _you_ okay? Is he coming back? Charla, please, speak to us. Why are you so upset?"

Anger pulsed through her head, blurring her eyes. She didn't want to answer these questions. She wanted to be _alone_.

"We had a fight, okay?" she snapped, and Meredy staggered back a few steps. "I don't know if he's coming back and I don't care! Just leave me alone!"

"But…"

Something broke. A fragile thread that had been straining and splitting from the moment Lance had spoken to her.

With a cry like a wounded beast, Charla shoved past her, ignoring her startled gasp, and thundered down to the riverbank without any idea what she was going to do there. She just wanted to hit something. To scream. To tear at her scales. To _hurt_. But all she did was slam her paws into the water and attack it like it was something alive, thrashing with claws and teeth and tailblade, relishing in its icy winter sting. And when the fury drained out of her as quickly as it had come, she slumped in the shallows and buried her head in her paws.

All was silent.

Nuala hadn't said a word, hadn't moved even, but Charla felt her staring even with her back turned. She trembled, and the river shuddered with her. Meredy spoke very softly.

"I'm going to check on him," she murmured. "Nuala…"

"It's fine," Nuala grunted. "Go."

There was a moment's hesitation, and then a clatter of loose rock, a rustle of grass, as Meredy's quick paws bounded over the hill and out of earshot. Neither of them moved when she was gone. Charla stayed where she was, steadying her breathing, blinking the tears from her eyes, until the ice-cold water became too much to bear. She sat up.

When she turned, Nuala was watching her.

"Does he know?" she asked.

Charla opened her mouth and closed it again, shivering, then shook her head as she dragged herself out of the river and back onto dry land. The breeze only made her feel colder. A wave of exhaustion swept over her then, stripping away whatever anger she had left, and she slumped on the ground, pressed herself against Nuala, and buried her face in her feathers.

Nuala tensed further still. "Then what happened, Char? You're acting like somebody died. Has he abandoned us? Is he going home; is that it? You gotta give me something here."

Charla just shook. She didn't know how to begin to tell Nuala what Lance had said, what he believed, what he thought of their friendship. And now that her anger had been snuffed out like old embers, she felt like an idiot. She'd just left him there, spat angry words at him and fled. What if he _didn't_ come back? What if she'd driven him to give up on her at last, and even now he was making his way towards Jordguard instead, abandoning them like Nuala said?

No… He wouldn't do that. He couldn't.

But the fear stuck with her and grew, until she jerked her head up and staggered to her feet. "I-I've got to… He might… H-he wouldn't…"

Nuala stood up too, and there was annoyance in her cold blue eyes. "What's going on, Charla? Tell me what happened! Does he know about us or not? Pull yourself together, put your head back on, and start speaking sense already!"

Charla sat down with a bump. Nuala was right; she needed to get a handle on herself. It wasn't like anything terrible had happened. She and Lance had argued before. But those arguments hadn't been like this, and not since Warfang had she been so worked up that she'd actually run away from him during a fight. And she'd told him she didn't trust him. She'd admitted, both to Lance and to herself, that she didn't trust him and she hadn't for a long time now.

How were they supposed to move on from that?

How was she supposed to go all the way to the Well of Souls with someone she couldn't trust?

How was _he_?

Maybe it would be better if he did leave… But her heart ached at the thought, and fear writhed inside her. Something had to change. But Lance couldn't leave. He _couldn't_.

"You're freaking me out, Char. Say something."

Charla took a deep breath, rubbed her eyes, and looked down at Nuala. Lance's words were loud in her head and, as she stared, they seemed to take shape in the air, circling like stormclouds around Nuala's form. _She looks at you and she sees a dragon, a weapon._ A question rose on her tongue.

"Are we friends?"

Nuala stared at her like she'd grown an extra head. "Uh, what? Of course we're friends. Why would you even—"

"Even though I'm just a dumb kid?" Charla couldn't hide the hitch in her voice.

"You're not just— Who says you're a dumb kid?" Nuala exclaimed, and it was hard to tell whether she was bewildered or annoyed. Probably both. "Charla, what the heck is going on? What did Lance _say_ to you? You're not making any sense!"

She wasn't, was she? She should just tell Nuala what Lance had said to her, but for some reason she couldn't bring herself to. Instead, she mumbled, "What do you think he'd do if he found out? About the magic stuff, I mean…"

"What do you think?" Nuala snapped. "Nothing good. I thought we agreed we'd rather not find out."

"But what _could_ he do?" Charla insisted, because all of a sudden that question was burning inside her and she didn't know why. Would he yell at them? Leave? "And why do we have to keep it a secret? Why's it so bad?"

"You're not seriously asking this, Char. You _know_ why. What we're doing isn't _normal_. Normal dragons don't get their magic from—"

But here she fell silent, and Charla didn't have to wonder why. She'd heard it too. The sound of soft pawsteps creeping over the hilltop, the whisper of disturbed earth. And a second later, Meredy was there, silhouetted against the darkening sky. She paused when she saw them staring at her, but only for a heartbeat. In a moment she had joined them beneath the overhang, shaking her bedraggled mane, and Charla realised it had started to drizzle again. She shivered. Lance was nowhere to be seen.

"He said he wants to hunt alone," Meredy murmured, her eyes downcast. "He'll be back by dark."

"But…it's raining," Charla mumbled.

Meredy looked at her sadly. "He'll come back when he's ready. Are you okay now, Charla?"

She wasn't, but she nodded anyway. Nuala was scowling, but, with Meredy there, there was nothing more they could say.

"Jeez," Nuala grumbled, as Charla averted her eyes. "Freakin' drama. Let's just get some rest and wait for him to get back, alright?"

"Yes… That's probably best," Meredy said, and all three of them settled awkwardly into their meagre shelter, silenced by the pervading nervous mood.

Charla said nothing when Nuala hissed in her ear that they would talk later, and she also kept her mouth shut when Meredy very quietly suggested that she talk to Lance when he got back. _If_ he got back. All she did, as the gloom deepended around them, was wonder where it had all started to go wrong.

How had this happened?

And what was she supposed to do about it?

* * *

Despite what Meredy had said, it was well into the night when Lance finally returned. Charla had been on the verge of running into the dark in search of him, terrified that he'd left them for good, and though Meredy and Nuala had both dozed off, she hadn't even tried to sleep. She was the only one who saw Lance materialise out of the darkness, his scales beading with rainwater, his face as stony as she'd ever seen it.

Her heart leapt into her throat, and a feeble swell of relief calmed her churning stomach. As their eyes met, he paused for a fraction of a second. Then, as if nothing had happened between them, he plodded over and said, "Here."

Three carcasses fell at Charla's feet—the jackalope they'd caught together, and two fat rodents with huge digging claws. Earth snouts, she remembered. They rarely came above the ground, but they were slow and easy to catch if you knew where to look.

"I'm not fast enough for jackalopes," Lance said, and there was something flat and empty about his voice, "but those will do us well enough."

Charla couldn't bring herself to speak, so she nodded. Her chest felt tight. When she dared to look up into Lance's face, he averted his eyes.

"I'll keep watch now," he said without looking at her, his gaze lingering on the sleeping forms of their companions. "You get some rest."

Charla swallowed and curled up without a word, watching him as he took up his place beneath the edge of the overhang. It was raining heavier now, and the pitter-patter of droplets on the river's surface echoed in the night.

It was a lonely sound.

She hardly slept that night, tormented as she was by the storm of thoughts and questions without answers. Lance's words kept repeating themselves inside her head, twisting themselves inside out and back to front, until she could no longer separate them from the nasty little voice of her own conscience.

 _He hates me,_ she thought. _He hates me and he should. He'll leave me. I know he will._

Then she thought of Nuala saying 'good riddance' and didn't know whether to smile or sob. She had Nuala, even if she had no one else—but she wanted more than just Nuala. She wanted Lance, she wanted Meredy, she wanted all of her friends, and she wanted these awful feelings to go away.

Was this where things started to crumble?

Where the earth between them, already cracked and trembling, finally shattered and fell away into the jaws of an insurmountable chasm?

There had been rifts between them for a long time now. Between her and Lance, after Warfang. Between Lance and Nuala, from the moment they'd met. Between Nuala and Meredy, after what had happened at Earthsoul. And even between Charla and Meredy, thanks to what she'd seen in the monastery…

After all of that, was this where the cracks started to show? They could only go on for so long, unable to trust one another, holding onto regrets and resentment, as Charla led them on into almost certain doom.

Was she a fool to think she could make it that far?

No… She would make it. One way or another, she would.

But she was a fool for thinking her friends would follow her there. There was nothing for them at the Well of Souls. Not for Lance; not for Meredy.

In the end, Nuala was the only one she could trust. Nuala who, like her, had lost everything she'd ever known. Nuala who burned with the same determined fires that pushed Charla forward no matter what stood in her way. Nuala who understood her in ways that no one else did.

Maybe that was all she needed.

Late in the night, when dawn was only hours away and Meredy had already switched out with Lance to take over the watch, Charla rose from half-slumber. She told Meredy she would take it from there, that she wasn't really tired anymore, and that Meredy should get some more sleep. Then she sat alone and stared out into the heavy drizzle, listening to Lance's deep, even breaths and waiting for Meredy's to join them.

And when she was certain they were both fast asleep, she shuffled over and shook Nuala awake. The vulpala came to with a snort, her feathers puffing out, and Charla silenced her with a whispered hiss. Their eyes met through the gloom. The question in Nuala's was obvious.

Charla took a shaky breath.

She thought of Lance and the things he'd said to her last night, the unpleasant truths they'd admitted to one another.

She thought of Meredy begging to be allowed to stay, to be let in, and of the wind snapping and breaking like shards of glass around her.

She thought of the long path that lay ahead of them, of Jayce waiting for her in the darkest of dungeons, of the fissures that had opened between her and the friends she could no longer trust. Of the choice she'd made in Warfang, a choice she'd known full well she might have to make again.

And she knew what had to be done.

"We're leaving."

Nuala's eyes shimmered, her forehead creasing. "What?"

"Now," Charla whispered. "We're going to the Well of Souls. Alone."

Nuala scrambled up, swiping the forelock out of her eyes. "What? Char—"

"I've already thought about it," she said, jutting her jaw out. The anger that Lance had awoken in her was still blazing deep in her belly, and it fed the fire that pushed her forward. "I've made my choice. I can't make Lance or Meredy come with me, but I'm going. And…I hoped you'd come with me."

"Of course I'm coming with you," Nuala hissed, laying her ears flat. "But are you sure about this? We're just going to sneak away? You're not even going to talk to them?"

"They'll try to stop me! I know they will and so do you!" She faltered as a lump rose in her throat, as her eyes began to sting. "I just…can't do this anymore. They don't trust me. I d-don't trust _them_. I…"

"Charla…"

"Lance doesn't even want me to be friends with you!" she burst out, and her voice almost rose above a whisper. She winced and checked that she hadn't woken them. The sight of Lance sleeping so calmly, as if the argument hadn't even troubled him, made her heart ache.

"He what?" Nuala whispered, a lilt of indignance rising into her words.

"H-he says you're just putting me in danger and…and that you don't care about me. He said—"

"That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard!" Nuala snarled, and she shot Lance a venomous look. "The heck is his problem? Is that what he said to you yesterday?"

Charla swallowed and nodded, blinking the tears from her eyes. "I-I know he just wants me to be safe, but he doesn't _understand_. He doesn't get how important this is to me. And I c-can't let him stop me again… I can't."

She rubbed the back of a paw across her face. "...That's why I have to go. I can't do this anymore, Nuala. B-but I want you to come with me. I really do."

There was a short, chilling pause. Nuala sighed.

"Well, I can't say I didn't expect this to happen sooner or later. Those two don't exactly have any reason to go to the Mountain of Malefor, not like us. But…" She exhaled softly and looked back at their sleeping friends. Her wings twitched. "Didn't think we'd be sneaking out on them in the middle of the night. You really sure about this? Feels…kinda wrong."

Charla nodded as she composed herself and turned to face the darkness beyond the overhang. Her scales prickled at the sound of rain, at the chill of the air, at the feelings in her stomach. She had done this before, but it didn't feel any less wrong now. Yet she had no choice. Everything inside her was sure of that.

"Sometimes you have to do things that feel wrong," she mumbled.

And then she froze, because as she spoke those words, she heard them in another voice. A voice that echoed through her memories and dragged up something she thought she'd forgotten, something buried so deep inside her that she hardly remembered it had even happened.

A faceless ape lying limp at her paws. The smell of blood and smoke and burning fur. A warm hand on her shoulder.

"Sometimes we have to do things that feel wrong," Jayce whispered, as Charla shook and tears spilled down her face, as she stared at the blood on her claws. "But you're still you, Charla. You're still my Char."

He smiled and the image shattered.

Charla rocked on her paws, her breath catching in her throat. Something warm and wet was rolling down her cheeks. _Jayce_. Oh, Jayce…

"Char?" Nuala's voice was soft, concerned.

Charla flinched. "I-it's fine. I just…remembered something." She wiped her face and took a shuddering breath. "We…we should go. Before they wake up."

"Alright. If you're sure." Nuala cast one more glance at Meredy and Lance, then shrugged. "At least Merry will have the big guy to take care of her… Maybe he can take her to that Jordguard place. They'll be alright."

Shaking slightly, Charla padded over to the pile of satchels discarded under the overhang and carefully extracted hers from the others. Then she hesitated, hefting its weight, staring at Lance's satchel. The map. She needed it more than they did. Lance knew where Jordguard was, and where else would he go but there?

She unbuckled his satchel and pulled out the folded piece of parchment. Opening her own, she shoved the map between the pages of _Star Tales_ and went to button it closed again, but stopped. What about the waterskins? They would be leaving the river soon, but she couldn't fit a waterskin in her satchel. Not with the book in there…

A sinking feeling made itself known in her stomach. With great reluctance, she pulled _Star Tales_ from her satchel, retrieved the map, and placed the book on top of Meredy's silk bag. Guilt twisted inside of her. A parting gift. Then she grabbed a waterskin and a few extra pieces of jerky from Lance's satchel and filled the hole she'd created in her own.

There. Now she was ready.

At least…as ready as she'd ever be.

Nuala waited patiently beneath the edge of the overhang, watching, and said nothing until Charla was at her side again. "You're really sure about this?"

"Really," Charla whispered, and Nuala nodded.

"Alrighty. Up and away, then." She looked back. "Sorry, Merry. Big guy. But you can leave everything to us from here. I'll take care of Char."

Then she hopped up onto Charla's back and together they faced the dreary world beyond. To Charla, the darkness was like a yawning mouth, the jaws of a great black beast waiting to swallow her. But she couldn't stay here any longer, and so with one final look at Meredy and Lance—one final twinge of guilt and pain—she stepped out into the rain.

And walked away.

* * *

Charla and Nuala were not fools. They knew that Lance and Meredy would look for them, would even attempt to go after them, as soon as they woke up. And that was why, in these final hours of darkness, they put as much distance between themselves and the Shimmerscale River as they could.

Neither rain nor the threat of apes could stop Charla from flying, and with Nuala on her back, she flew as if pursued by the Dark Master himself. They passed over hill and valley and crags of rock, as the world slowly lightened around them and the drizzle peppered her scales with ceaseless resolve. By the time the sun was peeking its feeble milky head above the horizon, the river was so far behind them that it could no longer be seen.

Even then, Charla flew on. She flew until her wings were aching and the sun was high in the sky, its blades of light trying and failing to pierce the endless cloud. Only then did she stop, return to earth, and look back.

The land rose and fell like petrified waves on the surface of the ocean, an endless, undulating expanse. From her perch on the craggy top of a hill, she could see all the way to the distant horizon, where thick clouds gathered like mist to blur the line of earth and sky. She could not see the river, or Whisperglade, or anything they had left behind. Just her and Nuala and the jagged teeth of Westwing Range.

"Think we've come far enough?" she asked, breathless with exertion. It had ceased to drizzle, and Nuala left her back to flutter like a bird in the crisp winter air.

"We made good distance," she said, gazing back the way they'd come. "But let's not stop here. If they come after us, Meredy's going to be searching for us with that windsense of hers, and we'll want to be far enough away that she can't. Big guy's not gonna be happy if he catches us."

Charla winced at the thought. She wondered if they were awake yet. If it was only Lance, he might not be, but Meredy was an early riser. She would notice their absence, the lack of Charla's satchel, the book left behind… She would know what they'd done.

Yes, by now, they would definitely be awake and searching. But they were slow, even if they flew—Lance still had to carry Meredy, after all—and Charla could only hope they'd give up.

 _Go to Jordguard,_ she whispered to the wind. _Please. Don't come after me._

Because as much as she wished that they would, she couldn't bear the thought of facing them again. There was no longer any choice. If they came after her, it would be to stop her, not to help her. And she couldn't allow that.

"Let's go, then," she said, catching her breath, and took off at a jog down the hillside. "I wanna rest my wings for a bit."

"You do you, Char. But let's fly again soon. They might catch up to us otherwise."

Charla grimaced but didn't argue. With Nuala gliding overhead, she cantered down into the stony valleys between hills and on towards the south.

In this manner, the day passed them by and the colours of evening once more fell upon the grasslands. The clouds cleared a little just in time for the sun to fade from the sky, revealing a glimpse of blood-red skyfire before darkness swallowed it whole. Exhausted, Charla called for a stop just after sunset and was relieved when Nuala didn't disagree. She hadn't slept much last night and they'd travelled all day without rest, straining to get as far from Lance and Meredy as they possibly could. Most of this had been done in the air, and Charla's wings burned from this uncommon use.

But they had come far, and she doubted Lance or Meredy could catch up to them now. Not tonight, at least. Hopefully not at all.

"Let's hunt in the morning," she huffed as they settled down between a few craggy spurs of rock for the night. It would do for shelter. "I'm too tired."

"Yeah, alright," Nuala grumbled. "I guess we'll survive a day without food."

Charla grimaced. They'd forgotten about the prey Lance had caught last night, left behind in the hurry to sneak away while he and Meredy slept. She wished they'd at least taken the jackalope with them… But there was nothing for it now. She and Nuala were good hunters. They'd find something in the morning.

Still, exhausted though they were, neither was quick to fall asleep. They sat awake for a long time, not really talking, just waiting, listening, thinking, as the darkness deepened around them. Charla wondered where Lance and Meredy were now, if they were still trying to follow—assuming they ever had—or if they had given up already and turned their sights towards Jordguard. She wasn't sure which one she wanted to be true.

The air felt so empty without them. The sound of their breathing, the whisper of talking, the shuffle of bodies in the grass and the warmth of huddling together. Alone with Nuala, in this great dark expanse, she felt so small. So lonely.

She shook those thoughts from her head.

"How far do you think we are from the other arm of the river?" she mumbled instead, wishing she'd checked the map while it was still light enough to see.

"Dunno," Nuala grunted. "But if we fly like we did today, I reckon it won't take long to get there. Maybe we'll find it tomorrow."

"Maybe…"

Maybe Lance and Meredy would catch up to them tomorrow, too. She clenched her teeth and pinched herself. _Stop it. Stop thinking about them._

A cold breeze wafted over her wings, teasing a shudder out of her. Charla pressed herself against Nuala, but found little warmth in her tiny body. At least she wasn't _alone_. But no matter how many times she told herself that, she didn't feel any better.

Was this the right thing to do?

Should they really have left, all on their own, not even saying anything?

Could they even _make it_ like this, just the two of them?

No, of course they could. Nuala believed they could, so Charla did too. They were powerful together, maybe even more powerful than the storms of Meredy's uncontrolled magic, and they could do anything.

But still…

The wind licked at her scales again, making Nuala's fur shiver as it passed. Charla ducked her head against it, and that was when she heard the voice.

It was distant, faded, barely audible—but she heard it, and she knew where it came from.

 _Charla!_

 _Nuala!_

 _Where are you?_

A shudder wracked her whole body and she jerked her head up, her breath quickening. All around her was nothing but darkness. The voice faded with the wind.

Charla exhaled shakily. Nuala was gazing into the distance as well, back the way they'd come, and from the look in her icy eyes, Charla knew she'd heard it too. Neither of them spoke. They should have expected this. Maybe, deep down, Charla _had_ expected it.

But to hear Meredy's voice crying out to them in a desperate, ghostly wail, to listen to it fade into the lonely darkness, was almost more than she could handle. Her chest ached.

They shouldn't have left. But they had to. They had to…

Nuala took first watch that night, and it was only from sheer exhaustion that Charla managed to get any sleep at all. She kept waking to the sound of Meredy calling for her, and she couldn't tell if it was real or if she'd only dreamed it. And when Nuala shook her awake to trade places, Charla missed Meredy and Lance more than ever. It had been so easy to share watch duty between the four of them, when everyone had been able to get almost a full night's sleep. But now it was back to staying up half the night, waiting for the hours to pass, almost wishing something would sneak up on them in the darkness just to break the monotony.

She felt so vulnerable now without Lance's burly form looming like a wall between her and the open world. Never had she been more aware of how small Nuala was, how delicate she looked, so thin and soft and frail. Charla was the wall now. And she had never felt so penetrable.

Morning came bright and milky, and Charla woke with a start to find she had fallen asleep mid-watch. Cringing with guilt, she shook Nuala awake and pretended nothing had happened.

The clouds had started to clear, and blue sky broke through in jagged patches—a sight that Charla took as a good omen. She and Nuala went hunting at once, and Charla found herself irritated by the hindrance that was her satchel. Normally she left it behind with Lance and Meredy, but… Well, she didn't want to risk losing it. She'd probably set it down somewhere and never find it again.

Nevertheless, they hunted well, and with only themselves to feed, they contented themselves with sharing a single jackalope and quickly moved on. Meredy's windwhispers had called out to them once more that morning, so they hurried to put more distance between themselves and her—wherever she was. Charla hoped she couldn't sense them. If she could; if she and Lance knew where they were… They'd never stop until they caught up.

The sky welcomed them once again, and Charla flew low but fast, speeding over the tops of hills and dodging taller outcrops as they rose into her path. They did not stop to check for signs of ape presence, nor to check the map. They just flew, as fast as their wings could take them, waiting for the southern arm of the Shimmerscale to appear before their eyes.

But it didn't, and another day passed them by on the empty, endless grasslands. They found shelter in a shallow cave at the base of a hill, and it was here that they at last found something that told them apes surely did inhabit these plains.

"Arrowheads?" Nuala muttered, as Charla picked up something sharp and metallic from the ground.

She nodded slowly and dropped it, turning her attention to the remains of a firepit at the back of a cave, filled with the ashen remains of crumbled wood. It looked as though it had not seen recent use, and the broken weaponry discarded around it seemed to agree. Most were broken arrows, but there was a small chipped dagger too, its blade rusted beyond repair. There were no footprints, nor any smell of ape.

Charla sat down and poked at the ashes. "I don't think anyone's been here for a long time."

"Yeah, doesn't look like it." Nuala flicked an arrowhead out into the grass, watched it disappear from sight. "There were apes here once, but I reckon it was months ago. Maybe even years."

Charla hummed in agreement, picking up the dagger and turning it over in her paw. Rusted blade aside, the design of the hilt reminded her with a pang of longing of Jayce's swords—or _sword_ , rather. She wondered if he even still had it, or if his one remaining sword had been taken from him, just like the one he'd lost to Cynder.

They'd have to get him new ones somehow. The thought of Jayce without swords was…odd. Unfinished, in a way. Charla had very rarely seen him without them, and that was only when she had been young and small.

She sighed and tossed the dagger away.

"Think they're still following us?" Nuala asked, gazing out into the half-clouded sky. Charla knew she wasn't talking about the apes.

"Maybe," she mumbled, because she didn't want to think about it. They'd heard no more windwhispers from Meredy. Charla hoped that meant she'd given up. Lance was probably taking her to Jordguard right now… She hoped they were safe.

"You can take first watch tonight," Nuala told her a short while later, when the night was growing late and they were too tired to stay up wondering about apes and abandoned friends. "Wake me up later and I'll take over."

Charla didn't argue. But the next morning, she did regret it. Nuala should have woken her at dawn so they could hunt early and get moving, but instead she awoke to the sun blazing overhead and her shoulder aching from the rock that had pressed itself into her scales. She jerked to her feet and looked around. The firepit and the discarded pieces of ape weaponry were undisturbed. And Nuala was fast asleep.

Great. At least Charla wasn't the only one who was bad at keeping watch. But it looked like it was well into mid-morning, which meant they'd lost several hours. If Lance and Meredy _were_ following, they could already be closing the distance.

Biting back her irritation, Charla poked Nuala awake.

"Oh, heck," the vulpala hissed as she stirred and saw the sun was up. "Ruddy, blasted, stupid…ugh. Sorry, Char. Didn't mean to fall asleep on you."

"S'okay," Charla mumbled. "I did it yesterday."

"You did? Huh. I wondered why you woke me up so late… Not as late as this, though. Damn it. Let's get moving and hunt later tonight, 'kay?"

Charla's stomach was grumbling, but she nodded anyway. A few minutes later, they were back in the air and flying south. Charla kept looking over her shoulder, half expecting to see Lance and Meredy in the distance, straining to catch up. The thought made her heart race, and she couldn't decide whether the feeling was from longing or fear.

But close to midday, something happened that almost drove her friends from her mind. The river came back into view.

The first thing they noticed was the trees. They had not been uncommon before, but in the dry open land away from the river, they had been almost nonexistent—and as soon as Charla saw the earth getting greener and richer, she knew the Shimmerscale must be nearby. And sure enough, shimmering like a silver pathway to the sea, there it was.

"Nuala! Let's land!"

She curled her wings and descended towards it, aiming for a gap between trees, letting the river guide her eyes towards the south. The southern arm of the Shimmerscale was thinner than its sister, but just as twisted, dipping and rising in and out of sight as it traversed the jagged plains. The sight of it filled Charla with equal parts excitement and trepidation.

Some part of her wished Lance and Meredy were there to see it too. The rest was glad they weren't.

They landed amongst the shrubs a short time later, and Charla gladly stretched and folded her aching wings. As she and Nuala trotted through the trees towards the riverbank, her spirits began to rise. This was it, the road that would lead them out of the grasslands and down to the coast. And from there… It was a straight line to the Well of Souls.

They could do this. They were going to make it.

"Sweet, fresh water," Nuala sighed as they gazed into its galloping depths, "how I missed you. Drinking from that waterskin tastes nasty."

Charla grinned. They drank their fill, refilled the waterskin just in case, and flopped together on the damp riverbank. Nuala stretched out her wings and sighed. The clouds had cleared, the sun was shining, and even the cold winter breeze had calmed and gone still. For the first time in ages, Charla felt at peace.

She'd done the right thing, she told herself. Meredy and Lance were better off now. They didn't have to worry about her, and she didn't have to worry about them. From here on, it would be just her and Nuala. No more secrets. No more sneaking. No more lies.

"We should probably get a move on, but let's chill out for a bit first," Nuala groaned, flexing her paws in the grass. "I'm beat. Reckon we've walked across half the Dragon Realms by now."

"Probably more," Charla said, thinking of where she'd started, all those weeks ago. How long had it been now? Three months? More? She was losing track of time. But winter must surely be drawing towards its end—and with it, the Year of the Dragon. It would be spring soon, a new year. And come summer, she would be thirteen.

She hoped Jayce would be there to celebrate her hatchday, wherever they ended up…

Maybe she could still go to Jordguard. Lance would be there, and maybe he'd even be happy to see her. She hoped so. Then she glanced sidelong at Nuala and wondered if she'd stay with them too. She was no fan of apes, but Charla hoped she'd like Jayce. Jayce was the nicest ape there ever was—except perhaps for Silverback. If Nuala could like any ape, it would be them.

She smiled to herself and stretched out in the sun-warmed grass, and for many long minutes they lay together in companionable silence. When Nuala finally did speak up, it was to ask if Charla was hungry.

"Let's go hunting in a sec," she said. "I wanna try something while we're at it. Go all out, see how much magic we can use at once, see if there's a limit."

"You mean like doing a fury?" Charla wrinkled her snout. That sounded like a bad idea…

"Maybe not quite that much. Not yet, anyway." Nuala fluttered her wings and stood up. "C'mon, let's look along the river. There'll be prey here for sure."

Charla had no arguments with that.

But as they began to make their way southwards down the river, Nuala started to act oddly. Every now and then she paused and raised her head, as though sniffing the air, her ears swivelling like they had minds of their own. Charla would have thought she was checking for prey, but these movements were different and her expression betrayed her. She seemed tense. Nervous.

"Nuala? What's wrong?"

Nuala grunted deep in her throat and swung her head one way and then the other, gazing along the river in both directions. Her tail was flicking. Charla shuffled her paws.

"Is it…?"

"Apes," Nuala muttered. "Yeah. They were here. Recently, too. I think…they might still be here."

Charla's heartbeat quickened. "How many? Are they nearby?"

"Yeah… Close." Nuala twitched her nose. "Smells like there were a lot, but I dunno how many are still here." She paused, turning her face towards the cover of the shrubbery. "Let's check it out. C'mon, Char. I can keep us hidden."

She set off without waiting for a response, and Charla hesitated before following. If there _were_ apes nearby, the last thing she wanted to do was go looking for them. But if Nuala wanted to…

She pulled a face and scurried after her. They slunk through the undergrowth like snakes, bellies low to the ground, and Charla's only guide was Nuala's blue-tipped tail flicking in front of her face. The tension rose with every step. All of Charla's instincts screamed that they were in danger, that they should be running far away from the apes, not going towards them. Her breath rasped too loudly from her mouth, so she caught and held it.

Nuala stopped. Cocking her head, she lifted an ear and whispered, "Hear that?"

Charla's heart began to pound. Yes, she heard it—the mutter of voices, the splash of disturbed water—and she smelled it, too. There were apes here. She didn't want to know how many.

But Nuala did.

"C'mon," she muttered, leading them back towards the riverbank, her whole body tensed with anticipation. Charla didn't like the look in her eyes.

She followed anyway, keeping her head low, listening as keenly as she could for the sound of talking apes, trying to guess just how many there were. Another loud splash made her jump, and her heart leapt into her throat.

What were the apes doing? Swimming?

In spite of her fear, a spark of curiosity began to grow inside her. Maybe they had come from the apes settlement near the fork of the river. Maybe they weren't even part of the Dark Army. Maybe…

But her last half-baked thought trailed out of existence as Nuala halted in front of her and hissed for Charla to come and look. Breathless, Charla slithered to her side and peered through the underbrush.

The silvery path of the Shimmerscale swam only tail-lengths in front of her paws, glistening in the afternoon sun—and on its other side, their hands full of net, their swords abandoned on the grassy bank, were two grubby-looking apes.

They were not very big apes—bigger than the average soldier but still dwarfed by the commanders that Charla had seen and fought. She could have pictured Jayce in their place, and maybe that was what made her stop and listen and wonder who they were and where they'd come from. They wore similar clothes to all the apes she'd met before, brown tunics and leather armour, and their swords worried her. But maybe it was still possible, that here were apes not serving under Gaul. Free apes, like Jayce had wanted to be.

"River fishies, river fishies, come to me," one of them sang, tugging on the net in his hand, which hung down and disappeared into the river. He was kicking his feet just above the surface of the water, leaning back on one arm.

His companion was smirking. "I still say yer a lunatic. Yer more likely to scare them fishes away, singing like that."

"Ah, you jus' wait," said the other. "Soon my basket will be fuller than yer mother at the dinner table and you'll have nothin'."

His friend chortled and tugged at his own net. Two large wicker baskets sat between them, apparently empty, but the apes seemed in no hurry. Something about their good mood made the tension ease in Charla's stomach. She settled a little more comfortably and watched.

The singing ape tugged at his net again, pulling it half out of the water. Charla saw bits of weed caught around its fibres. Then the ape let out a bellowing, excited cry and exclaimed, "Oh hoh, I've got somethin'! Feels like a biggun, too! River fishies, river fishies, up you come!"

He tugged hard and almost went over backwards as the river heaved and the rest of the net broke violently through the surface. Caught in the middle of it, wriggling like a serpent, was something long, black and slimy-looking. It and the net landed with a thump on the riverbank, and the ape scrambled to grab it while his companion roared with laughter.

"That ain't no river fishy!" he guffawed. "Looks like the eels liked your song more!"

"Where's the problem, eh? Eels are a delicacy!"

"Sure, if you like eatin' slime."

"Ah, shut it and hand me yer sword. This thing's a slippery little sucker." The ape was practically sitting on top of the eel at this point, holding it down with both hands as it thrashed to escape his grasp and the confines of the net. It was almost twice as long as one of his arms, and easily twice as thick.

The other ape, still chuckling to himself, reached for his sword and handed it over. In one swift motion, the pommel of the sword came down hard on the eel's head with a solid _thwack,_ and it went as limp as a piece of old rope. The ape sat back with a sigh, tossed the sword aside, and poured the slippery eel into the mouth of his basket.

"That's one," he said, and tossed his net back into the water.

His friend clicked his tongue. "At this rate, we'll be here all night. Commander Darur won't be happy if all we bring back is one slimy eel."

Commander? Charla's heart sank into her stomach. So much for free apes, then…

"Sucks for us being on fishing duty," the other grumbled. He gave a long, dramatic sigh. "Ah, bad enough that they're making us leave Shimmerside. Why we all gotta go back to that place, anyway? Ain't make no sense to me."

"It doesn't have to make sense to _you_. We're just soldiers, and the king called us."

There was a pause. Then, "Creepy, though, isn't it? The dreams. And that weird feeling…"

Something cold slid down Charla's spine. Dreams…? No, it couldn't be. She clenched her paws in the undergrowth.

The other ape shrugged. "It's jus' the king's magic."

"Yeah, but _magic_. We're apes! I don't reckon any ape should have _magic_. It's unnatural."

"The king ain't any old ape, y'know. And if the commanders hear you talkin' like that, you might lose a hand. Or your head." He huffed and leaned back, tugging halfheartedly at his net. "I feel ya, though. We had the best of it, didn't we? Getting posted to Shimmerside… It was like being sent home. But, y'know, with money."

His friend laughed out loud, but immediately sobered again. "I'll miss the gals the most. Pretty things at Shimmerside. Ain't no pretty gals in the army. They're all bigger and hairier than me!"

"Don't let Triscle hear you say that," the other said, grinning. "She'll crush yer skull with her bare hands."

"That's exactly what I mean! No sir, I ain't interested in no soldier hag."

The other ape chuckled and tugged on his net again, and at once his expression changed. "Oi, I got somethin' this time! Up ye come, fishes!"

He grabbed the net with both hands and heaved, and out of the river came a bundle of tangled fibres, trailing weed, and silvery, writhing fish. It landed on the bank with a heftier thump than the eel had, and the ape danced as if he'd reeled in a pot of gold. His friend stared.

"Eh, my song worked backwards!" he cried. "You got the fishies instead! Ruddy luck."

"Ah, shush. Gimme a hand here. Don't want any of 'em to wriggle away."

As the two apes got to work freeing the fish from the net and dumping them in the basket, Nuala suddenly spoke up.

"Now, Charla," she hissed. "While they're distracted. Let's take them out."

Charla startled. She'd almost forgotten Nuala was there, so engrossed in the apes and their conversation, and now she started at the vulpala in disbelieving horror. "What?"

Nuala shot her a look, and Charla had never seen her eyes so hard and deadly. She shrank back. Nuala's lips curled over her fangs. "There's only two of them. They won't put up much of a fight."

"You…you want to… But why? They haven't done anything to us!"

"Haven't—? Charla, they're apes! They're murderers! They're part of the Dark Army; you heard them! And two dead apes now is two less apes we have to worry about later. C'mon."

She didn't wait for Charla's argument. Like a bird descending upon its prey, she leapt onto Charla's back and dug her claws into the scales between her horns. At once, Charla felt the foreign magic pulse through her head, sharp and cold. She jerked to her feet, her heart pounding.

"But I don't—"

" _Now_ , Charla!"

Nuala's claws dug in. Against her will, Charla felt cold magic begin to bleed into her veins; instinctively she reached for it, let it in, embraced the rush of power that made her feel so alive, so untouchable. And then the panic hit.

It was worse than it had ever been, worse even than the first time they'd connected, worse than Charla had ever thought it could be. The world shattered around her, her vision blurred into tongues of red and blue, and all she knew was that she wanted Nuala _out_. Out of her head, out of her mind, out of her magic. She was dissolving and it terrified her.

 _Get out!_ she screamed with every ounce of willpower that she had.

 _Get out! GET OUT!_

But Nuala dug her claws in further, drove herself like a spike into Charla's mind, and a foreign pulse of anger and loathing flooded her like a cold, rising tide. She screamed.

 _Enough, Charla! They're our_ enemies _!_

Then the force of her will drove Charla forward, out of the underbrush, and like a demon born of fire they burst into the open. Through a blur of twisting magic, Charla saw the apes staring and scrambling back, their eyes filled with abject terror, the fish forgotten as they reached for their swords. Nuala's anger and hatred pulsed through her, driving her forward, feeding her magic.

And then it was _her_ anger, _her_ hatred—and as one they leapt clear across the river, wings spread, fires blazing to life. Blue flames sprang up around the apes, trapping them as they tried to flee. Charla heard them calling, yelling to each other, but their words were lost on her. All she could feel was magic. Magic and anger and the urge to hurt. To _kill_.

She threw herself forward, screaming as the flames left her mouth, wreathing her claws with fire both real and illusion. One of the apes cried out and swung his sword wildly, but she smacked it aside with one blazing paw and drove her horns into his chest.

He fell back, yelling, choking; his friend whirled around, pointing his sword at Charla and Nuala, and charged at them with unmatched fear in his eyes. Charla snarled and crouched to meet him. A fireball roared from her jaws and struck the outstretched sword, sending it spinning away into the grass. The ape fell back, clutching his hand, trying to stumble sideways towards his downed friend.

The flames encircled them, closing in, trapping them. Charla turned to face them both, her lips writhing over burning fangs, and each step she took was menacing and deliberate. The apes shook before her, helpless, unarmed.

She was going to kill them.

Just as they had killed her brother. Her family. Her world.

Then a tiny voice cried out deep inside her, a voice that had almost been lost in the firestorm. And she realised it was _her_ voice. Charla's voice. And the anger pulsing through her was Nuala's; the hatred and pain was Nuala's. The urge to kill was Nuala's.

But when Charla looked into the eyes of the apes that lay at her paws, all she saw was Jayce.

 _No…_

Nuala drove her forward, willing up the fire that would finish the job. Charla resisted.

 _No._

 _I don't…_

Another pulse of anger. She was burning up, turning to ashes. Panic rose inside her, thrusting Nuala away from her mind, grasping for control.

 _I don't want to!_

But Nuala fought back, dragging at her magic, smothering her inner voice, urging her forward.

And Charla exploded.

 _I don't WANT TO!_

Flames burst to life. They exploded through her scales, licked around her limbs, roared up in a pillar of fire that engulfed her in every sense of the word. Somewhere in the depths of her mind, she heard a high-pitched shriek of pain—and then, with a cold and painful _wrench_ , Nuala was gone from her mind.

Charla forced her eyes open. Her pillar of fire shot high into the air, blazing like a beacon, and burst into a rain of embers that showered down upon her as panic and magic bled out of her and left her utterly empty and cold. Then, feeling like a wisp of smoke fading into the air, she slumped to the ground.

Everything went silent. Charla lay gasping, her head spinning, a fog upon her mind. The apes were gone—she could hear them fleeing through the grass, disappearing into the hills, leaving their fish and their baskets behind. And Nuala…

Charla gasped and whirled around. Nuala was huddled on the ground, sobbing, gasping, clutching her paws to her chest. She didn't even look up when Charla scrambled over to her.

"Nuala? Nuala, what happened? What did…"

She trailed off and stared in horror. Nuala's paws were burned. Long furrows of fur had been scorched away up her forelegs, and the pads were raw, red and cracked. She couldn't stop shaking.

Charla felt sick. _She'd_ done that. She'd burned Nuala. She…

Gulping on the lump in her throat, she reached for Nuala's shoulder—but a feathered wing smacked her paw away.

"What the heck is your problem?" Nuala shrieked, and her eyes were filled with tears, her face twisted with pain and anger. "Look what you did!"

"I… I'm sorry!" Charla staggered back, her eyes stinging. "I didn't… I didn't mean to…"

"You fought me!" Nuala rolled over and lifted herself with wings alone, hugging her forepaws to her underbelly. "Why would you _fight_ me like that? We had those apes where we wanted them! Why would you _do_ that?"

With a choked sob, she swept past Charla and landed on the riverbank, plunging her burned paws into the water. She winced and hunched her shoulders. Charla stared at her back.

"I… I just…" She swallowed. "I didn't want to kill them."

" _Why_? They're _apes_!" Nuala gritted her teeth and lowered her head. A sob wracked her body. "Just… Just… Forget it, Char. Just forget it."

She hissed and went silent, hunching over the river. Charla hesitated, her stomach churning with guilt. She inched forward slowly.

"Are…you okay?"

"No," Nuala snarled. "I'm not. You burned me pretty badly."

Charla stared at her paws, but she could hardly see them through the rushing water. What she'd seen earlier was bad enough, though. She couldn't believe what she'd done. How had it even happened?

One moment she'd been struggling to resist the pull of Nuala's magic, and the next… She'd gone up in flames. It was a wonder Nuala hadn't been hurt any worse. Charla lay down on her stomach and buried her face in her paws. She'd never imagined that sharing magic with Nuala might end up in something like this…

And she couldn't stop thinking about the terror on the faces of the apes. If she _had_ killed them… She didn't want to think about it. They'd hardly even tried to fight back. All they'd wanted was to get away, and she'd hunted them down like some mindless beast, intent only on killing.

Why had Nuala made her do that? She didn't want to _kill_ apes. She'd never wanted to.

She'd had to before, and she might have to again—but not like this. Not when they wouldn't even fight back.

"Least we don't have to hunt now," Nuala muttered, startling Charla from her downward spiral of thoughts. "Nice of them to leave their fish for us."

Charla stared guiltily at the abandoned wicker baskets, but she didn't feel hungry at all anymore. She felt sick. None of this would have happened if they hadn't gone looking for those apes. If they hadn't left Lance and Meredy and gone off on their own…

She grasped her head between her claws and screamed soundlessly into the grass. Moments later, Nuala straightened up.

"Grab that basket with the fish in it," she said, her voice hard. "Leave the eel; nobody wants that. We need to get back into the forest."

"Why?" Charla mumbled into the grass. She didn't even want to move. She wished she could just melt into the ground and stop existing. Nuala probably hated her now.

"Because they weren't alone," Nuala snapped. "They had a commander, which means there's more of them around here. And now that you've let them _escape_ , that means they're going to tell everyone about us. I'll be surprised if we don't have a whole battalion of apes coming after us by tonight. So get up. We need to keep moving."

Cringing, Charla pushed herself back to her feet and went to grab the right basket. It was almost as big as she was, but at least it was light—even with a few fish at the bottom of it. Grabbing its strap between her teeth, she dragged it to the edge of the river and leapt off the bank. The extra weight tugged at her, pulling her down, but she rose into the air with a few extra hard flaps.

Then, with Nuala gliding stone-silent ahead of her, she soared back across the river and into the cover of the undergrowth, leaving the proof of their mistakes smoldering as embers in the grass.


	23. Our Mistakes

**Chapter 23**

 **Our Mistakes**

They didn't go much further that day. Nuala's burns pained her too much, and they needed to stop and eat so Charla could stop dragging the fish basket around. As soon as they found decent shelter—an overhang at the base of a hill hidden by brambles and underbrush—they agreed to stop for the night.

They devoured the fish without speaking, and afterwards Charla helped Nuala make a paste from crushed leaves and water from their waterskin. She smeared it on her burned paws, then bound them with strips of fabric cut from the straps on the wicker basket. After that, Nuala curled up to sleep and left Charla to keep watch.

It was a miserable night. Charla stayed up until well past midnight, inwardly beating herself up and jumping at every noise she heard out on the plains. What if Nuala was right? What if there was a whole battalion of apes searching for them right now?

They should never have let those apes escape…

No. She refused to believe they should have killed them. What they _should_ have done was never engage them in the first place. They should have slunk away, kept hidden, and the apes would never have known they were there.

It was _Nuala_ who'd wanted to attack them. It was because of her that…

But then Charla thought of the burns on Nuala's paws—the burns that _she_ had inflicted—and she felt awful for even thinking that way.

No, it was _her_ fault they were in danger now. All because she couldn't bring herself to kill two dumb apes… All because they reminded her too much of Jayce.

She rested her head on her paws and sighed.

There was only a few hours left of the night when Charla gave in and shook Nuala awake. She was too tired to keep watch any longer. Nuala didn't argue with her, but she remained cold and distant as they switched places, and Charla stared at her back for a long time before sleep finally claimed her.

Mere minutes later—or so it felt—Nuala shook her awake again and she opened bleary eyes to sunlight streaming through the brambles. Biting back a moan of protest, Charla got up and left her restless dreams behind.

They did not make quick progress. Nuala couldn't walk and instead took up her place on Charla's back, but Charla felt less like she was carrying her friend and more like she was carting around a brooding thundercloud. They hardly spoke as they set out, this time keeping their distance from the riverbank, always on the lookout for apes. And though there was no sign of danger all morning, Charla could not relax.

They couldn't fly anymore. Confined to the protection of the undergrowth, they cut a slow path through trees and shrubbery close to the river, and by midday Charla felt like they'd hardly gone anywhere at all. They scouted along the bank and stopped for a break.

The silence said everything. Wallowing in quiet guilt, Charla sat at the riverside and watched Nuala wash her burned paws. She cleaned the fabric bindings and laid them on a rock to dry, then sat with a pained grimace on her face, her paws submerged in the rushing waters.

A cloud drifted across the sun, throwing them into cold shade. Charla shivered.

"How…how is it?" she mumbled, and Nuala's ears swivelled back.

"It'll heal," she said, but her voice was grim and unfriendly. "Just might take a good week or two."

She pulled her paws up and Charla caught glimpse of raw, blistered skin, split and weeping—and quickly looked away. Nuala made a sort of hissing noise through her teeth, followed by a sigh.

"Get some more leaves, would you?" she grunted, and Charla was on her feet at once, glad for something to do.

A few pawfuls of supple leaves later, she found herself crushing them into fine powder between two rocks, watched by Nuala's judging eye. A bit of water from the river turned it into paste, and Nuala gritted her teeth as she smeared it on her burns. As Charla wrapped Nuala's paws up again, she couldn't help herself.

"Does it really help?" she asked.

Nuala huffed. "It protects the wounds. It's something my mother taught me a long time ago. Plus… Makes the burns hurt a little less."

Charla tied off the last piece of fabric and released Nuala's paw, which she gingerly placed back on the ground. They looked at each other. Charla's stomach had never felt so tight. Guilt rose in her throat like bile.

"I'm sorry," she burst out, even though she'd apologised a thousand times already. "I never meant—"

"I know," Nuala snapped. Her ears were back, but then she closed her eyes and softened her face. "I know, Char. You can stop apologising. I get it. My fault for making you attack those apes so suddenly…"

Charla turned her eyes to the ground. There was a pregnant pause.

"But you can't keep on this way, Char," Nuala said, and Charla's heart sank. "You hesitated to kill those apes, and I get _why_ , but you can't keep doing it! We're in dangerous territory now. We're going to the Mountain of Malefor, for heck's sake! If you want to get there in one piece, you can't _afford_ to hesitate."

Her wing brushed the spot beneath Charla's chin, coaxing her head up, making their eyes meet. "I get why it's hard for you. You were raised by apes. They were good to you. And now you see them every time you look at another ape, and you expect them to be the same. But that's not how it works, Char. These apes of yours—that Jayce fellow and the old guy? They're not like other apes. They're special. Outliers. And if you start expecting any other ape to act like they did, you're going to get yourself—you're going to get _both of us_ killed."

Charla's eyes were stinging. She blinked them furiously but couldn't free herself from Nuala's gaze. "I just… I-it's because… Th-they weren't fighting back, and…"

"And what? You wanted to make friends with them instead?"

The sarcasm cut through her like a blade. Nuala sighed and shook her head.

"They're apes, Char. They would have killed us without a second thought, but we were lucky. They were alone and unprepared and we caught them off guard. We scared them. If we hadn't… If they hadn't run off like that… I don't think we'd be standing here. You made us vulnerable. They could have killed us. We _can't_ let that happen again."

Charla blinked the tears from her eyes. "I… I know. I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Nuala stared hard into her face. "Just don't do it again. Apes are the enemy and you need to remember that. We can't afford to show mercy. We can't afford to fight each other."

She was right. Swallowing the lump in her throat, Charla managed a nod and quelled the thousandth apology rising on her tongue. There was no point saying sorry anymore. She'd made a mistake. For Nuala's sake, she wouldn't make it again.

Nuala breathed out and smiled, as if a weight had lifted from her shoulders. "Don't worry, Char. I'll heal. I'm a vulpala, remember? Nothing keeps us down for long."

Then she jumped up, circled Charla's head in a way that made her wings brush almost comfortingly over her horns, and landed on her back. Charla looked at her.

"We're still…friends, right?"

Nuala almost laughed. "Course we are, you dork. It's not like you meant to hurt me. C'mon, giddy up. We gotta keep going. I dunno where the rest of those apes were lurking, but we should get as far away from here as possible. Who knows if they're still looking for us."

Charla cast one last nervous glance at their surroundings—free of apes or any sign of their presence—and set out at a trot, glad at least that she was not alone, that she had someone to watch her back, and that Nuala was no longer mad at her.

But she did not forget, and the bad feelings did not leave her. Even as Nuala's anger faded with the passing hours, Charla wallowed in her guilt.

The accident had been her fault and hers alone—and that scared her. It scared her because she knew it could happen again.

She'd never imagined a consequence like this. Sharing magic had been scary at first, but it had quickly become familiar, easy, and almost fun. But now… Now she felt like Meredy. Out of control. Unpredictable.

Dangerous.

If she lost her head like that again… She didn't want to think what might happen. Nuala could have been hurt a whole lot worse. Killed, even. She wasn't like Charla—she didn't have any kind of resistance to elemental magic, and exposing her to all that fire had probably been a terrible idea in the first place. Why hadn't they thought about _that_ from the start?

And wondering that led her to an even more uncomfortable question.

Now that they knew what could happen, was sharing magic worth the risk?

Charla didn't know, but nor could she think of a way to bring it up with Nuala. That was why, late in the afternoon, as the sun began to set and the shadows grew longer, she flinched when Nuala called for a hunt. They'd walked all day with barely any rest, following a river that never seemed to end, and Charla was sore and hungry. But the thought of hunting filled her with fear.

"M-maybe we shouldn't share magic this time," she stammered out in a rush, as they halted by the riverside and took scope of their surroundings. The grasslands hardly changed from day to day, but plantlife beside the Shimmerscale had become thicker and greener, affording them easy places to hide. Charla hoped that meant they were getting closer to the ocean.

Nuala clicked her tongue. "Don't you start wussing out on me, Char—"

"I'm not! I just…think you should take it easy. Don't your paws hurt?"

"So what? They'll heal." She paused. "I know what you're thinking, Char. But I'm not letting you do this. We committed to this magic thing and we're not giving up on it now."

"But—"

"But nothing!" Nuala took wing and looped around Charla's head, coming to a hover in front of her face. "I get it, okay? You're scared. You messed up, you caused an accident, and you're scared it's going to happen again. But it's _not_. We learn from our mistakes. We know why it happened and we're not gonna let it happen again. That's all there is to it."

Charla licked her fangs and shuffled her paws. "But… But what if it _does_ happen again? What if I hurt you even worse? What if I _kill_ you? What if—?"

"You're gonna send yourself mad with those sorts of questions." Nuala gave a wry smile. "It's not gonna happen, Char. I promise. I know you're better than that. You'll be careful. And we can't give up on it now; not like this. If we stop now, because of this accident, you're never going to stop being scared of it. You've got to keep going and show yourself there's _nothing_ to be afraid of, or you'll never be able to do it again."

Charla looked away. "Maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing…"

"Charla. Come on." Nuala's paws grabbed her by the jaw and pulled her back, forcing their eyes to meet. A flicker of a wince passed over her eyes and she let go quickly. "It was a freak accident, okay? It's not going to happen again. I need you to believe that."

Believe it? _How_? She hadn't even realised what was happening, let alone been in control! How was she supposed to stop it from happening again?

But when she opened her mouth to say as much to Nuala, the words died on her tongue. Nuala's eyes were so fierce, so determined in spite of her pain, that Charla couldn't bring herself to disagree. Nuala had only just _stopped_ being angry at her. She didn't want to make her angry all over again.

And it was her fault all this had happened—her fault that Nuala had gotten hurt. If Nuala didn't want to give up, then Charla _owed_ it to her to try again. Nuala was right. She had to correct her own mistakes.

And Charla couldn't deny the yearning she felt for that rush of power, that blaze of unlimited magic, that only Nuala's mana could give to her.

Could she really give that up so easily?

Maybe Nuala noticed her wavering resolve, because she smiled and said, "Besides, I'm the one who was hurt. If anyone should be giving up, it's me. But I'm not, because I know we've got something good here. And we're gonna need this magic if we wanna get to the Mountain of Malefor and get out of there alive. I reckon the risk of a few little burns is worth that."

Charla managed a shaky smile. "I…guess we can try again. Just a bit. Just to hunt."

"Baby steps, Char. Let's get going while we still have light."

She reasserted her place on Charla's back and gingerly pressed her forepaws between Charla's horns. Charla took a deep breath and braced herself. She wasn't scared… She _wasn't_ scared…

"You ready, Char?"

Her mouth was dry. She gulped and nodded in spite of herself. Nuala's claws dug into her scales.

"Here we go," she said, and then magic tingled across Charla's scalp and flooded into her veins.

Cold. So cold. But so _powerful_.

At once Charla forgot her fears, and with eager greed she opened the pool of her mana and grasped at this new magic, pulling it in, drowning it in herself, filling spaces she hadn't even realised were empty. This was familiar. This was easy. This magic _belonged_ to her.

Why had she been afraid of this again?

She burned with mana both hot and cold; she overflowed with this endless, unstoppable force. She opened her mind.

And _then_ she panicked.

It hit her like a charging death hound, slamming into her with force enough to leave her breathless, as the intruder wormed its way into her mind. Her eyes flew open, her vision a blur of blue magic—magic that wasn't hers—and everything inside of her rebelled.

 _No!_ she screamed with more than just sound. _Not again! Not again! Get out of me!_

A voice called to her, begging her to be calm, but it was faint and distant and _alien_ and she would not listen. She would not lose control again. She would _not_.

 _Get out!_

Nuala wrenched away. The flood of magic ceased at once. Charla drew in a ragged breath and slumped on her stomach, gasping. There was a ringing in her head, pulsing loudly, but not quite enough to drown out the hiss of excess mana that seeped through her scales and coiled in the air. Her mind was her own. But she couldn't stop shaking.

"Well, that wasn't quite right," said Nuala somewhere above her. "Alright, Char? Take a deep breath. You're okay. We just need to try again."

"Again?" Charla choked out, digging her claws into the dirt. "We can't… I can't… I'll h-hurt you. I can't st…stop panicking."

"You can, Char. You've just got to focus. Listen to my voice. Calm yourself." She landed lightly beside Charla's head, sitting back on her haunches, laying a wing over Charla's horns. "We're partners. We trust each other. You have nothing to be afraid of."

Charla gritted her teeth and pushed her muzzle into the ground. "Then why…"

"Because you've had a scare. That's all. You've gotta work through it. Show yourself there's nothing to be scared of."

Nothing to be scared of… Charla inhaled shakily and tried to make herself believe that—tried to banish the fear of losing control, the image of Nuala going up in flames, the memory of her screams of pain. The touch of Nuala's soft feathers grounded her. It was okay. She could do this.

"Let's try again," Nuala said, and they did.

Once more, the panic hit, and Charla thrashed. Nuala hung on for longer this time—a few seconds, a few minutes, Charla couldn't tell—but she could not be calmed. Another wrench and her mind was her own again. Gasping on the ground, her eyes burning with unshed tears, she almost wanted to ignore Nuala telling her to get up and keep going.

"Come on, Char, you're alright. Let's try again."

And again they did. Again and again. Each time, Charla's resolve weakened, her mind kicked less feebly, and her panic quailed in the face of Nuala's refusal to give up. Her body and soul were aching both, and she wished they could stop, but she knew Nuala was right.

If they gave up now, they would never be able to share magic again. She had to break this fear.

And break it she did. Maybe it was pure exhaustion that allowed her to shatter the walls of her mind and let Nuala in; maybe the annoyance of repetition itself was enough to override her panic; maybe she no longer had the strength to fight—whatever the case, they were successful at last. Nuala's voice reached her through the fog of hysteria, and sweet, cold calm at last flowed into her tumultuous thoughts. She wavered and then stood strong, blinking the blue mana haze from her eyes.

Nuala was part of her. Once more, they were one and the same. There was nothing to be afraid of. At long last, Charla believed that.

 _Let's go hunt,_ they decided together. And so they did.

Hours later, long after night had fallen swift and silent over the land, Charla and Nuala sat together among the trees at the edge of the river, their bellies full of prey and their spirits lifted. They'd washed and rewrapped Nuala's burned paws after hunting, and already they looked less painful. The skin was still blistered and angry, and Nuala winced every time she had to touch something, but it had begun to heal.

"I'll be fine in a week or two," Nuala insisted, and finally Charla believed her. "The important thing is that we keep sharing magic and don't let this stop us. Accidents happen. We knew there would be risks when we started. But we need this magic and we're not gonna get very far without it."

Charla couldn't disagree. She hadn't _really_ wanted to give up her source of unlimited mana. It was the only power she had, the only thing that assured her she could do this on her own without Lance there to fight her battles for her. Without it…she was just a dumb kid. Without Nuala's magic, she _was_ the hopeless child that Lance saw her as, all weak and foolish and full of bad ideas.

She needed this. She needed Nuala. And both of them were prepared to face the risks.

It was these thoughts that allowed Charla to push her fears, her doubts, into the dark pits of her mind, where she could not see them and she could pretend they were gone. Her body felt lighter with them banished. Again she told herself that she'd done the right thing, made the right choice. All she had to worry about now were the apes, and there had been neither sight nor sound of them since they'd caught those two fishing by the river.

Maybe the apes had not searched for them after all. Maybe, in spite of everything, they were safe.

In the quiet, clear night, Charla could very well believe that. The moons circled overhead, bouncing their glow off the shimmering surface of the river, painting the stars with arcs of faded colour, of fire-red and deep-sea-green and all such hues alike. Beneath them, jagged and blacker than the night, Westwing Range stood tall and resolute, like a god gazing out upon its domain—observing, judging, seeing all. Charla shivered in the winter breeze. The mountains looked closer in the dark, as if a short flight would land her among the foothills.

Her thoughts went to Lance and Meredy.

"Do you think they went to Jordguard?" she wondered aloud, and her scales prickled as she broke the silence.

Nuala was pressed against her side, keeping warm, and Charla felt her shrug. "Probably. They wouldn't have turned back. It's too far."

"I hope they're safe," Charla mumbled to the ground, and her wings quivered as she thought again of the apes. What if they'd found Lance and Meredy instead? But the thought filled her with such sick fear that she banished it at once, digging her claws into the earth to ground herself. No. Lance was careful and Meredy could sense danger even at great distances. They could take care of themselves.

Nuala made a grim humming sound and curled herself more tightly against Charla's ribs. " _I_ hope they're not still following us. You know what they're like. Especially the big guy."

Charla glanced up the river, kneading the earth. The way behind them had been swallowed up by dark and distance and it seemed as empty as the void. Meredy had not sent out a windwhisper since that first night; Charla knew they would have heard it if she had, out here in these open, breezy lands. She was no longer calling for them.

"I don't think they are," she murmured to Nuala. "They never wanted to come to the Well of Souls anyway. They were scared."

"Yeah, I guess." Nuala yawned and added thickly, "You take first watch, 'kay? I need some shuteye."

Charla nodded and said nothing as Nuala shuffled around to get comfortable. When she was curled up, her face buried in the thick fur of her tail, Charla unfurled a wing and let it drape like a blanket over her tiny form. Nuala's ears flicked as though in thanks.

Charla smiled—a wavering, uncertain smile, but a smile nonetheless. She told herself it didn't matter where Lance and Meredy were now, as long as they were safe, as long as they were okay. She told herself she'd made the right choice. She told herself that Nuala was all she needed, that their mistakes were behind them, that they could make it on their own.

And in the silent night, she started to believe it.

* * *

The Jordian Grasslands were becoming wilder. As the days passed and Charla and Nuala drew closer to the western coast, the land around them changed. Gone were the bald rocky hills and their twisted valleys of short, tough grass. Now stunted trees and coarse underbrush sprang up in copses along the edge of the river, planting their feet in sandy earth. The land was growing flatter, losing its craggy humps, like the sea calming after a storm.

And every night, Charla's dreams pulled her forward, guiding her along a path she could see with more than just her eyes.

The Well of Souls was guiding her. She was on the right track.

Things had calmed for them since the incident with her magic, and for the first time in ages, Charla felt like everything was starting to go their way. Nuala's burns were healing, the trek was easy and unobstructed—albeit slow—and every day they drew closer to their goal. Every day, Charla thought a little bit less about Lance and Meredy and wherever they had ended up. By now they were surely at Jordguard, and there was no longer any reason to worry about them.

Nor did she worry about the apes, who had shown neither hide nor hair of themselves since that day at the riverside—though at times she spotted dark shapes wheeling in the distant skies and wondered if they might be dreadwings.

"Probably birds," Nuala said when Charla pointed them out, but they stayed grounded nonetheless. Just in case.

At least here, amongst this new underbrush, there were plenty of places to hide. It made hunting trickier, but at night they slept easier with trees looming over them like guardians, sheltered from the open sky. In spare hours they shared magic, easing Charla back into the zone, until letting Nuala in was once more as easy as remembering to breathe.

The panic faded to the back of her mind and the accident was all but forgotten. She told herself she had learned from her mistake. She told herself it would not happen again.

And for this brief time, Charla let herself believe that things were looking up, that she had made the right decisions, and that the world had forgiven her for her mistakes.

She let herself believe that the worst was behind them.

One afternoon, some three days after the incident at the river, the setting sun found Charla and Nuala at the peak of a shallow hill. Its sandy slopes led down into gullies of deep-green trees and thick brushland, which flanked the river and bled further out across the grasslands. These patches of dark vegetation led like pawsteps into the foothills of Westwing Range, where a line of blurry trees spoke of a forest at the base of the mountains—Westerwoods, according to the map. Further to the north, a trio of winged figures circled in the sky, stark against the clouds.

Just birds, Charla told herself, and then a pulse of Nuala's magic pulled her attention back to their prey. She tore her eyes from the sky. The jackalope grazing at the base of the hill should have seen them already, but under Nuala's magic they were entirely invisible.

They crept closer and the jackalope didn't flinch. Charla felt Nuala's smirk as a shiver of satisfaction through her head. She grinned, too.

Now that the panic had gone, she remembered why she liked being connected to Nuala. It was calming, in a way. The thoughts and worries that usually tormented her felt further away when Nuala was in her head, as if silenced behind a layer of fog. In return, her senses were sharper, her body felt lighter, and Nuala's addictive self-assurance bled through her like fresh magic.

That was to say nothing of the real magic that flowed into her innards and filled her with the burn of endless power. Nuala made her feel _alive_. Charla could barely remember why she had been frightened of this in the first place.

The jackalope's head shot up, its ears swivelling in a nervous sort of way, and the two of them froze. It couldn't see or smell them, but, as if by some buried instinct, it seemed to know it was in danger. Its nose quivered; its paw twitched. It was going to flee.

As if they were going to let that happen. They looked beyond their prey and saw what wasn't there—and made it so.

The flames that roared to life around the jackalope were the perfect blend of blazing orange and icy blue. They rose in a tight semi-circle, burning the shape of a crescent moon into the grass, and the jackalope bolted. Blinded by panic and smoke, it fled from the flames in the only direction it could—back up the hill towards Charla and Nuala.

It would have been easy to wait for it to come to them, to kill it swiftly with invisible claws, but where was the fun in that? Instead, Charla let the cold burn of mana rise up her throat and pool in her mouth, and when she opened her jaws, her fireball burst into the air with a high-pitched, whistling howl. It rocketed down the hill straight into the path of the jackalope—and as it did, she saw that it was not a mere fireball at all. It had taken the shape of an animal, with wings of crackling flame and wispy tail-feathers formed of smoke, and it bore down upon their prey like a predator in its own right.

At the last second, the jackalope swerved. A normal fireball would have missed, but this was no normal fireball. It swerved too, banking like a bird in flight, and collided with the jackalope's flank in a burst of blue-and-orange flame.

Their prey fell with a clipped squeal. A jolt of triumph danced across Charla's scalp and down her spine. They were getting good at that.

The jackalope was still kicking, charred but alive, and they cantered down the hill to put it out of its misery. Then, brimming with confidence and high spirits, Charla picked up the carcass and let Nuala guide her into the underbrush, a spring in her step.

 _Let's eat later,_ Nuala's thoughts seemed to be saying. _I want to practice more. I want to use more magic._

Still buzzing with the high of endless mana, Charla was only too eager to agree. Even when Nuala's thoughts formed images in her head—images of Charla swathed in flame, rising from the earth, humming with a crescendo of magic as waves of fire and heat burst from her body—she felt only the smallest twinge of doubt. Her worries were too far away, buried too deep beneath the fog. Nuala wanted to do this and she trusted Nuala.

They slipped into the trees, heading for the riverbank.

And that was when someone called their names.

"Charla! Nuala! Wait!"

The voice cut through the air like an unexpected gust of wind. They spun around, still connected, their startled thoughts clashing against one another in a moment of disorientation. Charla sank her teeth into the jackalope, grounding herself in the taste of blood. The fog over her mind lifted slightly. And then she saw who had called to them, and the carcass dropped from her slackened jaws.

Meredy.

Meredy had called their names.

Meredy was running down the slope towards them.

Meredy had found them.

The sight of her arrested all thoughts, and even Nuala's shocked presence was strangely blank inside Charla's head. They stood frozen, their prey forgotten at Charla's paws, as one of their abandoned friends came cantering down the hill to meet them.

How was she here? Had she followed them this far?

 _Why?_

Then Nuala's thoughts solidified into a single cold thought, and Charla clutched at it with a sudden rush of fear.

 _She's here to stop us._

She must have been. It was the only thing that made sense to Charla's startled mind. Even as relief rose in her chest—relief that Meredy was safe, that she was unhurt, that she was _here_ —Charla quashed those feelings and tensed herself to run. This was the last thing she had expected, but she would flee if she had to, even from Meredy. She would not let anyone stop them.

Maybe Meredy realised that, too, because she slowed before she reached them and her excited canter became a slow, unsteady jog. Something strange registered in her eyes as they swept over Charla and Nuala—a look not unlike fear—and her paws slowed to a walk and then stopped entirely, halting her at the base of the hill. The space left between them was empty and cold, but insurmountable. Her tongue snaked out to wet her lips.

"Charla?" she said, very softly.

Charla shivered and backed away. Her mouth moved, but she couldn't tell if the words she spoke were hers or Nuala's.

"What are you doing here, Meredy?"

Meredy's mouth opened and closed again without a sound, her eyes darting from Charla's face to Nuala's and back. For some reason, the sight of them seemed to have robbed her of her voice.

"Why did you follow us?" they insisted, and their voices melded together just as their magic did, just as their thoughts and feelings did. Right now, all they felt was a brewing storm of defiance and fear.

They'd come this far. Meredy could not stop them. Nobody was going to stop them.

Meredy's throat bobbed. "How could we not? We were worried. You're our friends…"

Her eyes darted to the side, as if seeking an escape or someone to help, but she was alone. There was no sign of Lance. Had she followed without him? Neither of them could believe that, and the thought that Lance might be nearby struck inexplicable terror into Charla's heart. If he had come after her this time, it could only be for one reason.

He'd come to stop her—this time for good.

"What happened to you two?" Meredy whispered. "What are you… Do you know what you're doing? Nuala… Get off her. Please."

Nuala's claws pierced hard into Charla's scalp and they backed up, one step at a time, keeping their eyes fixed on Meredy.

"You shouldn't be here," they said together. "You shouldn't have followed us, Merry. We left for a reason."

Meredy shook her head and panic began to bloom in her eyes, in the twitch of her ears, the quiver of her limbs. The wind picked up around her, tossing her mane about her neck, and her mouth moved with imperceptible words. Charla's heart leapt into her throat. She knew the signs of a windwhisper, even if Nuala didn't recognize them—and she knew who it was for.

 _We have to run,_ she tried to say, but her voice was locked away behind the thick fog that calmed her whenever Nuala was in her head, and even her mouth would not move. She was not in control. For the first time in ages, she realised that. Panic began to rise.

 _We have to_ run _._

Too late. There was a thundering of heavy paws like a drum beating into the earth, and then a burly green figure crested the hill, blazing into view in the warm afternoon light like some returning hero. But all Charla felt was fear. Lance had come. Lance had followed her.

Even after all this, she could not get away from him. And now he was going to stop her once and for all. He was going to tear Nuala away from her, drag her back to Jordguard like the foolish child she was, and dash all hopes she'd ever had of seeing Jayce again.

She had to get away.

"Lance!" Meredy cried as he galloped down towards them, twisting around to face him, and Charla took her chance.

Whether Nuala intended for her to do it or not, she turned tail and fled.

Meredy cried out and Lance bellowed something in a grating, unfathomable voice, but Charla didn't stop to hear whatever it was. She just ran, belting through the trees with fire at her paws and Nuala clutching her head, blazing through the undergrowth without care or caution for what her flames devoured in her wake. She ran as though pursued by promised death, by an enemy she could not hope to defeat, but even she knew there was no escape from this one. Lance had caught up to her. Lance, the only one who'd ever had a chance of stopping her, had found her. And he would not let her slip away from him again.

A sob rose in her throat, but Nuala urged her faster and she pressed on, drowning in the haze of excess mana floating before her eyes. She didn't even know where she was running to. The river? But the river could not help them. Nothing could help them now.

Lance was going to catch them, and then… And then…

The wind roared in her ears, howling like a wounded beast as it slammed into her and almost tore Nuala from her back. She screamed and staggered, catching her balance—only for the ground to shake with a tremendous _thud,_ halting her in her tracks. Lance circled around to face her, his wings still half spread, his shoulders hunched like a predator as he blocked their escape.

His eyes raked over her and Nuala as though seeing them for the first time, and it seemed then that a thousand emotions flashed across his face in mere seconds. Relief, fear, confusion, realization… And when it stopped, when his face settled into a hard, blazing expression, all that was left was anger. His steel-grey glare was molten metal; his lip curled. Charla had never seen such a terrible storm brewing in those eyes.

"Get off her," he snarled.

Nuala dug her claws in yet more fiercely, sending a spark of pain through Charla's scalp. She backpedalled, gasping for breath, seeking an escape but finding none. She could feel Meredy's presence at her back, closing them in.

"Get _off_ her, fox!" Lance barked, and both of them flinched. " _Now_!"

"Why don't you make me?" Nuala yelled, and Charla felt her own mouth move—heard the words in her own voice, full of anger and fear.

His lips writhed over his fangs as he took a slow step closer. "Don't tempt me, fox. You get off her _now_ , or so help me…"

"Or what?" they snarled together, and Charla felt herself tense as though preparing to fight. "Back off, Lance. You should not have followed us. We left for a _reason_."

"I don't care what your damn reason was! If you don't get off her now, I'm going to have to do something I might regret." His nostrils flared. "And you don't want that."

"Nuala, please…" Meredy whispered, but her timid voice went ignored.

Charla was shaking and she couldn't seem to stop. The air around her was hazy with fire and magic, and Nuala's defiance cut through her panic like a hot blade through flesh. She didn't understand what Lance was so angry about, but beyond the fog, she understood one thing. She didn't want to be separated from Nuala.

And if Lance was trying to do that, then he was the enemy.

Her lips twitched into a snarl.

"Try me," she hissed.

Lance moved like a bolt of lightning, crossing the distance between them in the blink of an eye, and Charla saw his paw coming—saw it aimed to swipe Nuala off her shoulders, to tear her away. But even he couldn't outmaneuver magic. The fireball blazed from her jaws in less than a second, and Lance jerked to the side with a clipped yell. Too slow.

It impacted his shoulder with a burst of blue and orange, forcing him back, staggering even his impenetrable wall. Meredy screamed.

Charla bolted. Straight through the gap she'd created, she fled out of the trees and into a scar of flat earth where nothing but brambles and underbrush grew. The river was in sight, twisting in and out of view beyond another grove. She aimed for it without even knowing why.

Then something slammed hard into her side and she staggered off course, whipping her head around to see Lance right beside her, using his own body like a battering ram. She leapt away, spreading her wings, but his paw caught her by the tailblade and yanked her back.

"You can't stop us!" she and Nuala yelled together, even as they twisted and writhed in vain. "We won't let you!"

But Lance was beyond talking. The scales on his shoulder were charred and cracked, and blood seeped out from beneath them. His face was terrible. His claws swung towards Nuala.

Fire burst from Charla's jaws. It licked at his leg like the tongues of hungry beasts, forcing him back with a hiss of pain. Meredy was racing towards them now, stumbling in her haste, her face tight with fear.

"Stop! Stop, please!" she cried. "Nuala, Lance! Stop!"

Charla scrambled away, her vision pulsing strangely, the sound of her own heart thundering in her head. She saw the blood on Lance's shoulder, felt the fire rising in her throat, felt the burn of mana that was not under her control, and something within her revolted. Just like it had that day at the riverside, the fog cleared and her awakened will clamped down on Nuala's presence.

They were _hurting Lance_.

That was _wrong_.

She would not hurt Lance. She would _not_! She didn't care if he was trying to stop her. She didn't care if he was trying to tear Nuala away from her. She would not have his blood on her paws!

Her claws dug into the earth, grounding her in place. A flash of foreign panic pierced through her thoughts, but she ignored it. There was an intruder in her head and she wanted it _out_.

Out. Out. OUT!

Her inner fires condensed into a humming ball of brimming energy. A high-pitched sound began to wail in her ears.

And then a paw swung out of nowhere and _wrenched_ Nuala away from her.

The intruder vanished. Like a blade ripped out of a wound, the excess mana sucked itself out of her gut, leaving her bleeding and grasping at nothing. Her eyes rolled; the world flipped on its head. Only the ground was there to catch her, and she lay crumbled like a broken toy, trying to breathe but inhaling nothing.

Somewhere far away, Meredy's voice was pleading for something.

"Stop, Lance, stop! Don't hurt her, don't hurt her! She doesn't understand! She doesn't know what she was doing!"

Charla's head cleared, but the panic did not leave her. If anything, it grew stronger, sharper, more acute. She twisted and thrashed, trying to remember which way was up, and her voice burst from her throat almost of its own accord. "Leave her alone!"

"Char!" Nuala yelled, in a strained, strangled voice.

"Lance!" Meredy begged.

And then the monster dropped out of the sky.

It happened so quickly that, for a moment, Charla couldn't make sense of anything. She heard the shriek first, felt the ground shake as though in the throes of a small earthquake, and caught the unmistakable reek of another predator—a very large, very dangerous predator. By the time she'd scrambled to her feet, another had landed, and then another. With a thrill of sheer horror, she realised what they were.

Dreadwings. There were dreadwings among them.

Her mind froze. Where had they come from? Why had nobody _noticed_? What was going on?

Then Lance's roar snapped her out of it, and she pulled herself together just in time to see him throwing himself at the nearest beast, his flank already scored with bloody scratches. It must have dropped out of the sky right on top of him, and even he hadn't been prepared for it.

But Charla had no time to worry about that. She had no time to worry about anything except the dreadwing turning its flat, ugly face towards her, saliva dripping from its slack lower lip. She opened her mouth to scream, but it beat her to it.

The scream that ripped from the monster's throat was more than just sound. The air shimmered red with magic as it slammed into Charla with real physical force, pushing her backwards, locking her limbs in place. Her heart all but stopped. The dreadwing was all she could see, its horrible face, its gaping mouth, its glistening fangs; she wanted to yell, but her tongue, her throat, her everything had been turned to stone. She was a prisoner of fear.

"Collar it!" a voice cried—a hoarse, unfamiliar voice from someone she couldn't see—and she felt a presence at her shoulder. A smaller, less monstrous presence, but one no less unfriendly. Grubby hands clutched at her scales, reaching for her neck.

Hands?

Her heart pounded. There were _apes_. Apes had found them!

But try as she might, her body would not listen to her, her eyes would not tear themselves from the dreadwing, and she could only grit her teeth as something cold and metallic snapped in place around her neck. The ape jumped away. The dreadwing ceased to scream.

Charla thrashed.

"Get away!" she shrieked, spinning in a semicircle, summoning fire into her jaws.

But the fire did not come. The mana rose at her command, stirred from the well deep inside her—but something stopped it. A wall. A barrier. _Something_ was inside her, trapping her magic, walling it up inside her so that it could not escape. This time she did scream.

She screamed and gasped and clawed at the thing on her neck, hardly noticing that she'd dropped to the ground, all but forgetting the ape looming over her. Her talons skittered over something glassy and smooth, like a chunk of glossy stone embedded in the collar. It was warm to the touch in the same way that spirit gems were, brimming with untapped magic—but it could not be a spirit gem. It was all wrong. This magic felt sick and twisted and _strange_ , and it was inside her, tainting her.

She sobbed and writhed, flinging her tailblade out on mere instinct, trying to gore the ape still standing over her. It met with nothing, and then something cold and sharp pressed down on the space between her wings. She froze, splayed on her stomach.

"You're done, dragon," said the ape, pressing his weapon into her back just enough to slip between the scales and nick her flesh. "Stay down and maybe you'll stay alive a little longer."

Charla's eyes watered. Pain and panic left her mute and limp, but she managed to raise her head and look for her friends. They would help her. They _had to_. This couldn't be how it ended—not like this, so suddenly and without any warning.

There was a cacophony of noise howling inside her head, and as her senses came back to her, she recognised the sounds. The screeching of dreadwings, the yelling of apes, the roar of battle. A guttural snarl drew her eyes towards Lance, locked in battle with a dreadwing, his jaws fastened around its throat even as its wing-claws tore bloody furrows in his flank. The dreadwing's ape rider had been thrown from its saddle, and now it danced around the tussling beasts, flailing in panic with nothing but a broken spear.

Nearby, Meredy stood rigid at the edge of the trees, her eyes screwed shut and the wind whipping around her. Her created storm was so fierce that neither ape nor dreadwing could get near her, but that didn't stop them from trying.

And Nuala… Nuala was gone.

Charla's eyes rolled in her head, desperately seeking her friend, but there was no sign of the vulpala. Not in the grass, not amongst the undergrowth, not in the sky. She had vanished into thin air, disappeared into the chaos.

Had she made herself invisible? Had the dreadwings already got to her?

Had she run away?

No, Charla knew Nuala wouldn't do that. Nuala wouldn't run. Nuala wouldn't leave her.

But then where _was_ she?

Gritting her teeth, Charla forced her head up and lashed her tail, but the ape standing over her dodged the strike. The point of his weapon dug further into her flesh, sending waves of pain jolting down her spine. She screamed and went limp again, and the feeling of warm blood oozed between her scales, dripping down her side. The ape snarled at her.

"Stay down! Do you want to die?"

A sob lodged in her throat. No. _No_. She didn't want to die. She _didn't_ …

A wailing voice cut through her despair—the sound of Meredy sobbing with fear.

"Don't! Do-on't!" she begged, stuttering in her terror. "Don't, ple-ease! Leave us alone! L-leave us alone!"

The wind spinning around her picked up speed, singing a high-pitched song of storms, and fear cut straight to Charla's core. Meredy was losing control. Her storm was breaking. Her magic was building.

It was the vision in the pool all over again—but this time it was here, it was real, it was _happening_. The wind would tear them apart.

Meredy would kill them all.

"No!" Charla screamed, even as the howling gale tore her voice away and flung it into the air. "Meredy, no! Don't! _Don't_! Lance, _help_!"

She heard him roar, heard the apes shriek, heard the storm screech like a living creature as it began to break.

But it never happened.

Charla didn't see who shot the arrow. She never even saw it fly. All she knew was that, one moment, Meredy was standing rigid in the centre of a raging storm—and the next, there was a metal crossbow bolt buried in the base of her neck.

The world seemed to slow. Meredy choked and gasped, her eyes flying open. The wind died with a whimper like a wounded animal. The apes clambered back to their feet. And Meredy crumpled without another sound, her body landing with a feeble thump in the grass, the metal arrow glinting in the fading light.

Charla screamed. She screamed so loud it made her own ears ring—but even that was drowned out by the bellowing howl that tore from Lance's throat. He _threw_ the limp dreadwing away from him, spraying blood across the grass, and slammed his horns into the chest of its rider. The ape fell with a choked gurgle, and then Lance was running. Covered in blood, his face twisted with rage and grief, he thundered across the grasslands towards Meredy's downed figure, still bellowing like an injured beast.

The two remaining dreadwings turned to face him, and he slammed into one of them without stopping, digging his claws into its neck before it even had a chance to scream at him. The ape riders yelled and lobbed their spears, and one caught him in the hind leg, eliciting a howl of pain.

Charla bucked against the ape pinning her down, fighting through the pain of the spear stabbing into her back, heedless of the tears running down her face.

"Lance!" she cried, choking on her own voice. "Lance, help!"

He spun towards her, his face fixed in a snarl, and then the dreadwing screamed its red-tinted magic straight into him and his limbs went rigid.

"The collar, the collar!" one of the apes was yelling. "Get the collar!"

Lance was fighting it, gritting his teeth and tossing his head, revolting against this paralyzing magic. But one ape took the chance. It vaulted straight over the back of the dreadwing and landed square on Lance's shoulders, almost flattening him to the ground. Before Lance could do anything, the ape clutched him around the neck and snapped a thick metal collar into place—a metal collar with a sickly green gem embedded at the throat.

The ape rolled away. Lance bellowed and surged to his feet. He didn't even seem to notice the collar, and the apes scattered in terror as he lunged at them, lashing out with unchecked ferocity. Another spear scored a gash across his face, but he didn't seem to care. There were only a handful of apes, after all—two for each dreadwing—and they cowered before his rage.

"It's not doing anything!" one of them cried, as Lance shoved him aside in his haste to get to Charla.

Her heart leapt. The distance between them closed. The ape standing over her began to tremble.

Then another crossbow bolt shot out of the blue and slammed into Lance's side. He hit the ground with a deafening roar, skidding in the grass, the metal arrow protruding from his ribs. Charla inhaled and choked, an involuntary spasm of her body causing the spear to slip further into her flesh.

This wasn't happening. This wasn't _happening_. They weren't… They couldn't…

 _Lance!_

He snarled—a wet, gurgling, feral sound—and began to clamber to his feet. The apes panicked. The crossbow twanged. Another arrow speared through his scales, inches from the first. The only sound he made this time was a grunt. His nostrils flared. His wild eyes rolled. And then he tipped sideways, his legs folding beneath his weight, and slumped in the grass with a final, definitive _thud_.

The air stilled. Charla struggled, but pain had made her weak and her magic felt so far away, so out of her reach. Darkness lurked at the edges of her vision, creeping in. She fought it, tried to keep her eyes open, hoping, _hoping_ that Lance would get up again. He had to.

He _had_ to!

But he didn't, even as his limbs twitched and his claws curled into the earth, trying, failing, to drag himself back up. His snorting breaths began to slow; his body quivered but did not rise. Gritting her teeth, Charla stretched out a paw towards his, but the ape pressed his foot down on her wing and she choked as the spear sank deeper into her back. The world swam darkly before her eyes.

One by one the apes crowded around Lance's body, prodding him with the butts of their spears, hanging back in case he surged up and threw himself at them again. When he didn't, they began to relax.

"It's not dead, is it?" one of them muttered.

Another snorted. "You'd better hope not. Looks like it's still twitching. What about the yellow one?"

"I'll get it. At least that one went down easy…"

Charla ground her teeth together, blinking her stinging eyes, scrabbling at her own fading consciousness. This couldn't be how it ended. She had to _do_ something. She had to help her friends. She had to…

But her eyelids were so heavy, the allure of sleep too strong. She was drifting, falling away.

 _Lance… Meredy…_

 _Nuala… Where are you?_

"I still say we should kill them. Take what sells best and leave the rest. Easier to transport."

The spear removed itself from Charla's back, but she hardly felt it. The world spun into a blur of colour and sound, and then she was falling into darkness, clutching at the final words murmured above her head, pulling them down with her into the void.

"That's not our orders. Commander Darur has something else in mind…"


	24. Their Consequences

**Chapter 24**

 **Their Consequences**

Charla dreamed.

In the dream, the world was burning. It was a blue flame, bright and pale, but twisted through with blazing tongues of red and vibrant orange. Nuala's magic burned cold through her veins. And Lance stood in the heart of the fire, his fangs bared, his steel-grey eyes alive with violent intent.

"Get away from her!" he snarled through the spitting of the blaze. "She's not your friend! She'll never be your friend! She cares nothing about you!"

"You're lying!" Charla yelled, but the voice that left her mouth did not belong to her. It was Nuala's voice, thin and sharply pitched. "Leave us alone!"

"Get off her!" he roared, and then he was running, charging through the flames, bearing down upon them as if he was the hunter and they were the prey.

Charla froze with fear. But her body did not. It moved of its own accord, as if _something else_ was in control, as if she was just a witness trapped inside her own form—and she could do nothing but watch as her claws lashed out and tore into Lance's throat. He fell back with a gurgling snarl, open-mouthed and staring, staring, as blood gushed down his front and washed his scales in red. Charla tried to scream, but her voice was as much a prisoner as her reeling mind, and her body was not her own.

Nuala's claws were points of stabbing pain in the crown of her head, and Charla had never felt so cold, so trapped, so far from her magic, her _fire_ —

Something snapped. Heat burst to life in the hollow of her breast, blazed up through the chill of Nuala's mana, sent it fleeing like a winter's breeze before the rising sun; a screaming howl tore at last from Charla's throat—and then she was ablaze. The fire roared around her, unstoppable, unquenchable, and Nuala was screeching, thrashing, shrieking in pain, as the magic turned on her, as the flames ate her alive.

Somewhere far away, beyond the cacophony of death, a small and frightened voice was begging Charla's name—and Meredy lay at her feet, bleeding from the throat, her staring eyes beaded with unshed tears.

"Charla, please. I-I'm scared. I'm scared. _I'm scared_ …"

With a shuddering gasp, Charla lurched back into her body. The dream melted from her sight, but not fast enough; there was still fire in her eyes, and Meredy's voice was still sobbing her name. She lashed out in panic, felt cold metal chains bite into her scales, heard a feeble yelp of shock and a creaking of wood. Then a soft, trembling paw pressed down on her shoulder.

"Ch-Charla," said Meredy's voice. "I-it's okay. It's me. Y-you're okay, we're just chained up. We're okay."

There was nothing okay about being chained up! That horrible thing was still around her neck, bleeding its tainted magic into her, blocking her mana, and there was something strapped to her face, like a cage over her mouth. Thick, coarse rope had been tied around her wings, strapping them to her body.

Charla snorted and huffed, trying to get her panic under control. The fog and fire was fading from her eyes, bringing the world back into view, but all she could see was a wooden floor and a wooden wall and the chains around her body. Everything was shaking. Were they moving?

"I'm so glad you're awake," said Meredy's voice beside her head, tight with emotion. "I-I've been so scared. I was worried you wouldn't…"

She trailed off and Charla twisted her head around, trying to lift herself. Nevermind the chains and the shaking floor—how was _Meredy_ speaking to her? Meredy had been shot! Charla was not about to forget the image of the arrow in her throat, of the stricken look on her face as she crumpled to the ground. But somehow…

"You're okay?" Charla croaked.

Meredy gazed back at her, haggard and pale, but undoubtedly alive. They'd muzzled her, too, and the dark metal cage looked evil and _wrong_ upon her pallard, slender face. Just beneath her chin sat a matching collar, plain except for the sickly green gem at its centre. Charla stared at it for only a second before her eyes went searching for the wound that should have killed her. The only thing they found was a grubby bandage, wrapped loose around neck and shoulder.

"They shot you," Charla said numbly, staring at the bandage. "Th-there was an arrow in your _throat_. I thought… I thought you were…"

"It's okay," Meredy murmured, even though her voice shook and there was a strange hollow look in her eyes. "I'm okay, I promise. Look."

Her paw, weighed down by manacles connecting one leg to another, inched up to her throat. As Charla stared, she pushed the loose bandage up and revealed the wound hidden beneath it—a half-healed puncture, not in the throat, but in the soft flesh between neck and shoulder. A painful injury, but not a fatal one.

"They weren't aiming to kill," she said, letting the bandage fall back into place. "I-if they had been, I don't think we'd be here. They want us alive."

But Charla had already stopped listening. Convinced that Meredy was okay for now, her thoughts flung themselves instead towards their other friends. She whirled around, the question already on her tongue, but spotted Lance before she could ask it. He lay close-by on this trembling wooden floor, chained and collared and muzzled just like them—but, unlike them, he was as still and silent as a corpse. Charla's heart plummeted like a stone.

"Lance!" she cried, trying to throw herself at him and tripping over her chains in the process. "Don't be dead, Lance, please don't be dead! I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry!"

She fell against his flank, but he didn't move. His head lay limp on the floor, his eyes closed and his mouth parted behind the muzzle, flecks of blood still stark upon his fangs. There were white patches of cloth stuck where the arrows had pierced his hide, but the rest of his wounds were open to the world, some half-healed and crusted with dried blood, others weeping slowly between his battered scales. Charla couldn't even tell if he was breathing.

"C'mon, Lance, wake up," she begged, shaking him with both paws. "Tell me you're okay, okay? You have to be okay! I'm sorry!"

"Let him sleep," said Meredy, and Charla flinched. "He's lost a lot of blood."

"But he'll be okay, right?" Charla whirled on her, wincing as her chains clattered across the floor.

Meredy's pale face was in no way calming. Fear had made her cheeks hollow and gaunt again, and there was something about her staring eyes that put Charla's already shattered nerves on edge. She seemed to be in shock.

"H-he's alive," she managed to stammer. "I can feel his breathing. A-and the apes did give him most of the hamadryad sap when they healed us. I…I think he would have bled to death if they hadn't. They healed you, too."

Her paw brushed across Charla's back, over the delicate spot between her wings, and Charla flinched away. She remembered the stabbing agony of the spear digging into her flesh, spilling her blood. But the pain when Meredy touched her was dull and faded, like a wound well on its way to healing, leaving nothing but a bruise behind. She frowned, rolling her shoulders. There was something stuck to her scales there, something that had shielded them from Meredy's touch. A bandage?

"They healed us?" she muttered, gazing into Lance's unconscious face. Her paws were shaking, her head still reeling. They were captured and chained and _somebody_ had healed them, and— A small, distressed snarl broke from her lips. "Where _are_ we?"

Charla pushed her paws against Lance's shoulder and hoisted herself up, craning her head to see over the high wooden walls around them. She was not prepared for the sight that awaited her.

Apes.

Scores of apes. Hoards of apes. Apes with weapons and armour; apes in every direction she looked. They spread across the plains in a great marching throng, carrying packs and baskets almost as big as they were, heading on to who-knew-where, and scattered amongst them were the hulking forms of numerous dreadwings. The beasts were fitted with saddles and harnesses, hauling wooden carts behind them, as if they were little more than common cowleks. And the air was full of unintelligible sound, of thudding footsteps and the hum of many voices murmuring at once.

It was an entire pilgrimage of apes. Charla had never seen a sight quite like it—and yet here she was, right in the middle of it, chained up like a wild animal, a prisoner. The setting sun told her they'd already been here for a good hour or two.

And somehow they were still alive.

Charla drew in a shaky breath, trying to calm herself. They were in a cart, she realised now, but its walls were so high that she could not see what was pulling it. Another dreadwing, no doubt. Her eyes followed the links of her chains and saw they were connected to a metal ring in the middle of the floor—as if tying her wings down and blocking her magic wasn't enough to keep her from escaping. The rest of the cart was empty. Empty except for her, Meredy, and Lance's lifeless body.

Her heart felt like it was constricting; blurred memories rushed through her mind faster than she could make sense of them.

She whirled back to Meredy. "Where's Nuala?"

Meredy stared back, her lips quivering. Charla dug her claws into the floor.

"Where's _Nuala_?" she insisted. "Do you know? Did you see her? Is she here?"

She was not in the cart with them, and Charla could not remember seeing her after the dreadwings had attacked. She had disappeared in the battle. But she had to be _somewhere_. She wouldn't _leave_ them.

What if…

Charla gulped on the lump in her throat.

Meredy slowly shook her head. "I-I thought _you_ might know… I lost sight of her when the dreadwings attacked us. I h-haven't seen her since."

"So they didn't capture her? Is she okay? Is she alive?" Charla's paws quaked.

"I don't know, Charla," Meredy insisted, squeezing her eyes shut. "I didn't _see_. I don't know what happened to her."

Charla steadied herself and began to pace back and forth inside the cart. Her chains jangled with every movement, but at least they let her walk with short, shuffling steps. Her heart was thundering an uneven rhythm inside her ribcage, and panic made her thoughts quick and sharp.

"She escaped," she said feverishly, swinging her head to and fro. "She…she must have. She escaped and she'll come back to rescue us. Of course she will."

Meredy was silent, and Charla knew she didn't believe it—but she didn't care. She believed in Nuala. She was sure the vulpala was still alive, that she had escaped, that she would come back for them. She _did_ believe it. She did…

A sob rose in her throat, but she choked it back down. "Wh-why did they heal us? Why would they? We're prisoners."

Meredy could do little more than shake her head again. "Th-they wanted us alive, but I don't know why. I didn't hear them say. I think I must have fainted when they shot me, and by the time I woke up they'd already found the hamadryad sap in our satchels. I h-heard them saying they needed to keep us alive. Lance must have been in a bad way… They were panicking…"

Her voice caught and she trailed off, leaving Charla to gaze anxiously at Lance again. Just how close had he come to dying? He was breathing steadily now, but his scales seemed to have lost what little lustre they usually had—a sure sign of sickness in dragons. She shuffled back towards him, just to reassure herself that he _was_ still alive, but stopped when something else occurred to her.

"Our satchels!" she yelped, jerking around to look for them. "They're not here!"

With the extra burden of chains and the rope around her wings, it was no wonder she hadn't missed her trusty bag's familiar weight. But now it was gone, and the look on Meredy's face told her all she needed to know.

"Excess weight," Meredy murmured. "The apes took what they wanted and left the rest. At least we didn't lose anything too important…"

But Charla disagreed. She'd had that satchel for a good two months, almost as long as she'd known Meredy and Nuala themselves. And that was to say nothing of its small but precious contents—the pewter figurine from the abandoned dragon village, the white ribbon from Madame Orinthe's orphanage, the map from Earthsoul, _Star Tales_ … All of the mementos she'd picked up along the way, everything she'd ever collected throughout her journey… All gone.

She sat down with a bump and took several long, ragged breaths.

This couldn't be happening. The world felt like it was crashing down around her, and everything she'd ever had was slipping through her claws, no matter how she tried to hold onto it. She and Meredy were chained up like captured beasts, her satchel was gone, _Nuala_ was gone, and Lance lay as though dead at her feet.

This had to be some kind of horrible nightmare. This couldn't be _real_.

What was she supposed to _do_?

She hunched over beside Lance's listless form, pressed her paws over her eyes, and dug her claws into her scalp. The chains jangled a discordant sound beneath her muzzled snout, and she wished she could throw them away, wished she could wrench them from her body and hurl them into the sun. The first sob broke from her lips.

There was another clatter of metal, and then Meredy was there too, pressing her cheek to Charla's neck, holding her in the only way she could. Charla shuddered.

"Why is this happening to us?" she said, her voice bubbling wetly through her paws. "I-it wasn't supposed to _be_ like this. I d-don't want to be… I don't want to _be_ here. I don't want to be here. I'm sc-scared."

"I'm sorry," Meredy whispered, her voice catching. "It's my fault. I should have sensed them. I sh-should have _known_ they were there. I could have warned us. B-but I was so distracted, I didn't…"

Charla shook her head, jostling their chains. Nobody had noticed the dreadwings coming—not until it had been too late. They'd _all_ been too distracted. Too busy fighting each other. Too busy with their own stupid problems…

But even that was a blur to Charla. Everything that had happened between hunting with Nuala and being attacked by dreadwings was strange and fogged to her mind, like a picture warped behind clouded resin. She remembered seeing Meredy for the first time, remembered the harsh flood of fear that had filled her at the sight of Lance. She remembered running. She remembered Nuala's magic pulsing cold through her blood.

But why? Why had Meredy and Lance been there? Why had they fought?

She pressed her head against Meredy's. "Why did you follow us? You were supposed to go to Jordguard. Y-you were supposed to be safe. N-not…like this…"

"Oh, Charla," Meredy said in a strangled voice. "How could you think we'd leave you like that? Of course we followed. How could we do anything else? You're our _friend_. We were scared for you. Why did you run away? Why didn't you talk to us?"

"I couldn't! I c-couldn't… I d-didn't trust you. I was sick of keeping secrets and telling lies and being scared. I thought one day you'd turn around a-and try to stop me. If I did something wrong, i-if I said something bad… Nuala was the only one who understood me! I thought she was the only one I could trust…"

But even as she spoke those words, she realised, for the first time, how stupid she sounded. She'd been acting like such a foolish, scared child, and now… Now look where it had landed them. This was where her fears had led them.

It was her fault they had ended up like this. It was her fault the apes had captured them and Nuala was gone.

And if the apes decided to kill them… That would be her fault, too.

She tried to pull away, but Meredy grabbed her by the paw and held tight. Charla melted against her, trembling.

"I'm sorry," she choked into Meredy's neck. "I-I'm _sorry_. I just…"

"It's okay," Meredy whispered, even though it wasn't and both of them knew it. " _I'm_ sorry. I'm sorry you felt that way, that you were so scared to talk to us… I'm sorry we didn't give you enough reason to trust us."

Charla shook her head but couldn't find the will to argue. The most she could do was grit her teeth and will her eyes to stop stinging and her juddering breaths to still. A dampness on the back of her neck told her Meredy was crying. They clutched each other in silence, while the cart creaked and groaned around them, making their chains clatter on the floor.

And the world continued to turn, heedless of their despair.

Finally, many long minutes later, Charla surfaced from a stupor of dark and frightening thoughts, and lifted her head with a clearer mind. Meredy stayed slumped against her, her face now dry of tears, but her eyes full of that terrible, hollow fear that she could not seem to voice aloud. For whatever reason, the sight of her caused a spark of fire to flare inside Charla's cold and empty stomach. She felt, perhaps not braver, but steadier.

Meredy was here because of her. Charla had to protect her. She had to get her friends out of this.

She craned her head, trying to see over the high cart walls, to catch a glimpse of the apes under the dying sun. They surely had a reason for keeping them alive, but Charla couldn't fathom what it could be. To sell them as slaves? Did apes even keep dragons as slaves?

She had a sudden vision of herself chained up and bowing before a faceless Gaul-like master, but the thought made her shudder and she quickly banished it. She'd never heard of the Dark Army capturing live dragons before.

But then _why_? What did the apes want with them?

And how was she supposed to spring them out of this one…?

This wasn't like when she had first met Lance. Now she was chained up too, _and_ robbed of her magic. As far as she could see, there was nothing she could do.

It had to be Nuala. Nuala was the only one who'd escaped, and Charla refused to believe otherwise. That meant she was the only one who could save them. But without knowing where she'd gone and what had happened to her…

Charla huffed and busied her shaking paws with brushing dried blood from Lance's cheek. He didn't stir. The best she could do now was try to stay calm and hope that Nuala would show up soon—preferably before the apes did whatever horrible thing they were planning. Until then… She could only pray to the ancestors and try to keep Meredy and Lance safe.

She squeezed Meredy's tail with her own. "We'll be okay. Nuala's going to save us. I know she is."

But Meredy did not reply, and Charla descended back into grim thoughts as the cart carried them into the unknown and the enemy marched around them.

* * *

Sunset had long since given way to a clear, cold night by the time their cart rattled to an ungainly stop. Charla and Meredy jerked in unison, breaking free from twin stupors that had kept them in silence for the last while. Ape voices rose all around them, unintelligible. Meredy lifted her head high, her ears quivering in the moonlight.

"We're stopping for the night, I think," she whispered—and, at that exact moment, Lance snorted and began to stir. She wheeled around with a gasp, and Charla fell upon him with a clink of chains.

"Lance! Can you hear me? C'mon, Lance, say something." Charla planted her paws into his shoulder and pushed as firmly as she dared. His whole body jerked at her touch, and his eyes cracked open.

A shuddering gasp parted his lips and gushed back out through his nostrils. Snorting like a captured beast, he rolled one eye towards her and blinked several times. Charla managed a smile.

"Hi," she whispered.

Then Meredy gasped again, and Charla jerked her head up in time to see the face of an ape peering over the edge of the cart. As soon as their eyes met, the ape ducked out of sight and scurried away, the sound of his footsteps warring with his quivering cry.

"The dragons are awake! Somebody tell the commander! Oi, you there—!"

And then he was gone, leaving the three of them in relative silence. Charla chose to ignore this disruption. Lance was still staring at her with one eye, and the bleariness was slowly fading from his stare, the sound of his snorting breaths beginning to ease. Through the straps on the leather muzzle, she saw his mouth twitch.

"Kid?" he rasped, as if he hadn't spoken in weeks. "You're…okay…"

Charla blinked rapidly. She didn't know why there were suddenly tears in her eyes and a lump in her throat. "Y-yeah. We're both okay. Apart from being chained up and all."

She tried to laugh at the last bit, but the sound caught in her mouth and turned into a cough instead. Meredy pressed close so that Lance could see her too.

"We're alright, Lance," she murmured, and Charla saw his eyes widen.

"Meredy—" he started, trying to raise his head, only to fall back with a grimace. When he tried to move his legs, Charla realised he'd been chained up far more securely than she and Meredy had. While their chains allowed them to get up and stumble around, his paws had been linked so closely together that he looked like a piece of prey ready to be strung up over a fire. Even his tail had been chained to his back legs, and his wings tied down like hers. The best he could hope for was to lift his head, but even that seemed a struggle.

"Stay down," Meredy insisted with a sort of anxious squeak. "Y-you were hurt very badly. Charla and I are fine, I promise."

Lance exhaled heavily through his mouth and let his head lay back against the floor of the cart. His eyes did not leave them, however.

"Can't say this is how I thought my day would turn out," he grunted. His chains clanked as he twitched a leg. "But I'm glad you're okay. I didn't think…"

He broke off, his nostrils flaring. Charla touched his paw, finding comfort in the way his talons curled around hers.

"How do you feel?" Meredy asked, and his eyes closed briefly.

"Tired. Sort of…drained. Weak."

"I think you must have lost a lot of blood," Meredy told him, resting her paw on his shoulder.

"But the apes healed us, so you'll be okay," Charla insisted, and she wasn't surprised when a deep furrow appeared in his brow.

" _Healed_ …?" He gritted his teeth and opened his eyes again, forcing his head up. "Nevermind healing—why are we still _alive_?"

"Consider yourself lucky to be so, dragon."

The new voice that cut into their conversation was deep, low and unfriendly. Lance jerked his head and Charla whirled around, taking a stance in front of him and wishing she could flare her wings, which strained against their ropes to no avail. She felt more than saw Meredy cower behind her. What she did see was the enormous ape lumbering up towards them, a look of grim satisfaction clear upon his brightly-coloured face. She bared her teeth and flared her nostrils, pretending she wasn't muzzled.

The ape almost smiled. He was a huge creature—easily as big as Commander Pevmuffin, minus the gaudy headdress—and he towered over them cart and all, clad in thick pieces of leather armour that had been polished to a moonlit sheen. In one hand he held a staff as thick as Charla's tail, its apex crowned with a chunk of glowing green crystal. The light cast an eerie hue across his face.

"You're looking lively," he said with that strange half-smile, his voice sliding like oil down Charla's spine. "I'm glad to see it."

Charla snarled. Unfazed, the great ape twitched a hand at someone standing next to him, and the back wall of their cart fell forward with a wooden creak. Meredy whimpered and Charla backed up a step. She hadn't realised it until now, but the cart's high walls had been almost a barrier between them and their captors—a shield containing them in their own little box of safety. But now it was open, and there were two apes standing right in front of her, close enough to touch.

They could have reached out and grabbed her at any moment. She hunched her shoulders and lowered her growl, trying to imitate the feral snarl she had heard from Lance only hours before. The big ape didn't even look at her. His eyes slid over Meredy and Lance, appraising them.

The ape next to him, a smaller one that would have been about Jayce's size, shifted uncomfortably. He had the light, slim build—and the leather helmet—of a dreadwing rider. A metal lantern full of spitting flames swung from one of his hands. Charla glowered at him.

"I must congratulate you, Raventracker," the big ape said abruptly. "It is a notoriously difficult task to subdue dragons without killing them first. But you and your crew have indeed managed it. The big green one is a little more damaged than I would have liked, but he has the look of a fighter. Caused you trouble, I assume?"

"Y-yes, Commander," stammered the Raventracker ape. "We had to resort to desperate measures to get that one down. It was touch and go for a while there, but we managed to keep it alive. The yellow one caused trouble, too—we couldn't get close because of its magic. Kazii had to perform a difficult shot and we kinda thought he'd killed it. Good thing they had those magic healing crystals on them."

"Spirit gems?" The Commander raised his eyebrows. "I was not informed of this."

"F…forgive me, Commander Darur. We had to use them all to keep the green dragon from bleeding out. But I don't think they were spirit gems. They were…different. Sort of."

"I see." Commander Darur turned his sulfur-yellow eyes back to Charla, Lance and Meredy. "Perhaps our friends here can enlighten us. _Were_ you carrying spirit gems?"

It was such a pointless, simple question, but Charla was in no mood to cooperate with apes. She snorted, wished she could breathe fire at them, and jumped when Meredy spoke behind her. Her voice was tiny and frightened.

"I-it was hamadryad sap," she squeaked. "Not spirit gems."

The commander turned his attention to her, and Charla felt her tremble. "Sap? Tree sap? Intriguing… Where did you find this magic sap?"

The only sound Meredy uttered was a breathy, whimpering murmur. Charla gritted her teeth.

"Leave her alone," she snapped. "We got it from Whisperglade, so what? What do you want with us?"

"Why haven't you killed us?" Lance added, and Charla hated how weak his voice sounded. "I didn't think the Dark Army took live prisoners. Especially _dragons_."

The disgust in his tone was obvious. Commander Darur looked amused, but at least he took his eyes off Meredy.

"Under normal circumstances, no," the great ape said. "But certain happenstances have made it so that you will be more valuable to me alive. Alive and fit to fight, as it were—which you certainly seem to be." He turned abruptly. "Raventracker, bring Riftshot here. Quickly."

"Sir!" Raventracker saluted with a sharp movement that made his lantern almost hit him in the face, then turned and scurried off.

The lantern-light bobbed away into the darkness and was soon swallowed, leaving only the green glow of Commander Darur's staff to ward away the gloom. Charla shivered and pressed closer to Lance and Meredy, losing her snarl. The chains clinked, the muzzle's leather straps rubbed irritatingly against her face, and the ape's eyes bored into her with all the sharpness of blades. She felt so trapped.

"What value could we possibly have to you alive?" Lance asked, but he sounded so tired, as if he'd already given up, as if he was just waiting to be killed. Charla pressed her paw into his.

"Our clients do not deal in dead weight," the commander said with an unfriendly smile. Then he went silent, his eyes roving over them as if searching for defects, his fingers drumming the neck of his staff. Lance tried a few more questions, but the ape did not answer. He did not speak again for several minutes, until a lantern came floating towards them out of the dark, revealing Raventracker and another ape of similar size.

"Riftshot," the commander barked as they approached. "Take a good look at our prisoners. Are these the ones that attacked you at the riverside?"

Twitching with apparent nerves, the ape called Riftshot inched closer to the cart—and, as the lantern-light washed over his face, Charla had to stifle a gasp. She knew this ape. He was one of the two that had been fishing on the riverbank several days ago—one of the apes she and Nuala had almost killed. When his eyes fell upon her, it was clear he recognised her, too. His lips quivered.

"Y-yeah," he stammered, pointing shivering finger at Charla. "The red one. The fire one. Never seen the other two, though."

Commander Darur hummed in thought. "Hiding, perhaps. But I am surprised, Riftshot. You told me this creature was a demon, an unstoppable beast of fire magic that almost killed you and Weaselfinder. This little dragon is a mere whelp. Am I to believe two of my soldiers were bested by a child?"

"It didn't look like no whelp when it was attackin' us, sir!" Riftshot babbled, pointing at Charla with more vigour now. "I never seen anything like it! Covered in fire, it was—came blazin' out of the bushes like some kinda devil-monster! I still dunno how we got away. It's got some sorta crazy magic, Commander, even if it is small. I swear it on me life!"

"I see…" The commander shifted his gaze. "Did this whelp display any such powers to you, Raventracker?"

"No, sir, but we did catch it by surprise. Tash got the collar on before it could do anything."

Commander Darur turned his gaze on Charla and she sneered right back. If only Nuala was here—if only this collar was off her neck. She'd show him exactly what Riftshot was talking about. She'd make him believe.

"B-but, sir…" Riftshot stammered. "That's not all, sir. There was a...a somethin' else with the demon whelp, sir, when it attacked us. It weren't just alone."

Commander Darur's eyebrows rose. "Something with it? Another dragon?"

"N-no, sir. Looked more like a…er…a little rodent thing. With wings. It was ridin' on the dragon's back; weren't much bigger than a death hound pup, sir."

"A winged rodent… Raventracker? Have you anything to say about this?"

Raventracker shuffled from one foot to the other, the lantern swaying precariously. "Well, Commander… There _was_ another creature with the dragons when we ambushed them. I didn't get a good look at it, but I'd say a winged rodent fits the ticket well enough."

"And what happened to this winged rodent?"

Charla swallowed, suddenly aware her heart was beating in her throat. She could feel Meredy shaking.

Raventracker seemed to wilt, but then he puffed himself up and said, "Kavii shot it, sir. But we lost sight of it in the scuffle with the dragons and we never found the body. It's possible it ran away to die. We decided we'd better bring the dragons to you instead of searching for it. Th-those were your orders, after all. A common flying rodent can't be very valuable…?"

His voice rose nervously at the end, as if it were a question, and Commander Darur narrowed his eyes.

"In the future, you will inform me of such matters and leave the conclusions to _me_ ," he growled. The lines on his face smoothed and he added, more calmly, "But in this case, I am inclined to agree. Leave the rodent to die. Value lies with the dragons, and you have delivered as ordered."

His sharp yellow gaze scoured over the three of them one more time, and none of them dared to speak. Something very painful was happening in Charla's chest and she struggled to breath through the lump in her throat. Her face felt cold and numb. Commander Darur thumped the butt of his staff against the ground, making both her and Meredy jump.

"You have provided all the information I require. Dismissed, Riftshot."

Riftshot threw up a hurried salute and scurried off with one last, frightened glance at Charla. The darkness swallowed him in moments. With a flick of his wrist, Commander Darur snapped the open wall of the cart back into place, enclosing Charla and her friends once more in their little wooden prison. Then he spun away and ordered Raventracker along with him.

"Their condition is satisfactory," Charla heard him say as they walked off. "Send out your riders with the message. We have a trade to make…"

And then they too vanished into the night, the sound of their footsteps faded, and their prisoners were once more left shaken and alone. The silence that followed was cold and tense. Charla's disbelieving mind ran through what she'd heard over and over again, struggling to understand, to believe. It didn't make sense. It couldn't be true.

She unstuck her tongue, but all that fell from her numb lips was, "They shot her."

Meredy made a strange choking noise. "Oh, Nuala…"

Charla clenched her paws, the tips of her claws piercing into wood. Nuala couldn't be dead. She had escaped; she was out there somewhere right now, waiting for the right moment to rescue them from the apes. She was a master of illusions. She was their only hope. She couldn't be _dead_.

"I wondered," Lance grunted, his chains clanking as he tried and failed to sit up. "Thought she might have escaped, but…" He snorted. "I guess the fox got what was coming to her."

A hot, prickling sensation swept through Charla's chest and into her throat, a blaze of formless anger trying to knit itself into words—but Meredy was faster.

" _Don't_!" she cried, her voice a screech that rang in the still night air. "Don't _say_ things like that! Just don't! _Please_!"

As the last word left her lips, her face crumpled, her voice caught, and she sank to the floor of the wagon with a choking sob. More followed, loud and unrestrained, until Charla's own eyes began to sting and a tightness formed in her throat. She sank to her stomach beside Meredy's quivering form.

Nothing seemed real. Everything she'd thought she had was collapsing. Even Nuala… Even _Nuala…_

"Meredy," Lance mumbled, twisting his head towards her. "I didn't mean…"

But he trailed off, because he had meant it and they knew it. Instead, he closed his eyes and breathed out an apology that Meredy didn't seem to hear, then rested his head back on the floor and went as still as if he had died. Charla buried her face in Meredy's mane.

She didn't know how long they lay there, wallowing in silence. She didn't know how long Meredy cried, or how long they huddled together after that, dry-eyed and exhausted in their grief and fear. She didn't know how long Lance lay there beside them, quiet as a corpse but for the low rasp of his laboured breathing. All she knew was the crushing, all-consuming hopelessness that filled her as surely as her lost magic once had.

Nuala had been her only hope and her closest friend. That she might be _dead_ … It was more than Charla could take.

Not since losing Jayce had she felt this way—since those few horrible days after the storm, when she'd been convinced of his death. Now it was as if she had never left that awful grey beach—as if, after all of this, she was right back there once again, alone, frightened, and hovering on the verge of giving up everything.

Only, this time, she had dragged Lance and Meredy into it too. And there was nothing she could do to help them.

"What's going to h-happen to us?" Meredy choked out, breaking the engulfing silence at last. "Wh-what do they _want_ with us? I don't u-understand!"

"Don't you?" Lance murmured, in that same tired, helpless tone. "I can only think of one reason they'd want us alive."

For some reason, Charla felt another hot surge of anger towards him. She jerked her head up and spat, "Which is?"

"They want to sell us."

"A-alive?" Meredy stammered. "B-but who would _buy_ …"

She trailed off, her face alight with some kind of horrified realisation, and Charla's stomach turned over. She looked quickly from Meredy to Lance, trying to grasp what she was missing, what they knew that she didn't—but she didn't have to wait for long.

"Who else?" Lance said tiredly. "Pirates, of course."

"Skavengers?" Meredy choked. "But—"

"They're going to give us to pirates?" Charla burst out, her head reeling. "But why? What for? Why would pirates want us? Why—"

"Entertainment," Lance grunted before she could finish. "Big fans of the gladiator sport, Skavengers. They've been in league with the Dark Army for a while now, buying out their prisoners, filling their arena… It's strange, though." He raised his head slightly, and in the feeble moonlight Charla could see the shadow of a frown on his face. "The apes don't usually give dragon prisoners away. They don't usually keep dragon prisoners alive, for that matter. We're worth more to them in pieces… So they must have some reason for selling us to the Skavengers. Maybe the pirates have something they want…"

"So what?" Charla snapped, even before his last words had trailed into silence. Anger was blazing in her belly now and she didn't care to wonder why. The cold void of hopelessness fled before it, and she welcomed it. "Who cares about any of that? We need to get out of here! We can't just let them do whatever they want with us! _I'm_ not going to let them give us to the pirates! _I'm_ going to escape! We're all going to escape, aren't we?"

Whatever reaction she expected from Lance, it was not for him to give her a snort and a scathing look. But before he could say anything, there was a thump against the side of the cart, and an angry voice hollered, "Keep it down in there, ya blasted dragons, some of us are tryna sleep! I'll get the commander again if ya don't shut yer bleedin' traps! He'll have yer gagged if yer keep on like this."

They shut their mouths and went still, Charla clenching her jaw to keep from spitting out an angry response. The last thing she wanted was to make more trouble for Lance and Meredy, but blood was pulsing in her head and she wanted to yell and scream and make a scene. She didn't want to _be_ here. She wanted _out_.

But it wouldn't go very well if the apes heard them discussing escape plans, so she bit back the urge and waited for the ape to leave. A long silent second later, his footsteps stumped away from them and the sound of his irritable grumblings faded into the night.

Lance scowled and spoke in a low voice. "I don't know if you've noticed, kid, but we're chained up so tight we can barely move. This isn't like that time you freed me from the apes. _You_ weren't chained up then. How do you expect to get us out of this one?"

"Maybe if you helped me, we could figure it out," she shot back, her face burning with more than just anger. "You're not just going to lie there and do nothing, are you? We have to do _something_!"

"Like what?" he snapped. "You've got no magic, you can't fly, you can hardly walk, and I've got about as much hope of getting away from here as a half-dead cowlek. We're _done_ , Charla. There's nothing we can do."

And his head thumped to the floor with a hollow sort of thunk that made Charla's anger burn hotter than ever.

"So you're just giving up?" she hissed. "That's it? You're not even going to _try_? What's _wrong_ with you? If Nuala was here, she wouldn't—"

"Don't talk to me about her!" Lance snarled, and he jerked his head up so fast he made his whole body twitch. "I don't want to hear another word about that damn fox, no matter what you thought of her! She wasn't our friend and you have no idea what she was doing to you!"

"Don't talk about her like she's dead!" Charla spat, baring her teeth to hide the unpleasant pulse of shock that his reaction had caused her. She recalled her half-forgotten dream and the blurry memories of the moment Lance had seen her and Nuala connected for the first time, and her head reeled as she tried to make sense of it all. What did he mean? "I don't even know what you're talking about. She wasn't doing anything to me!"

He scoffed loudly. "Exactly. She had you so blinded you didn't even realise what was happening. But I guess I can't blame you. I didn't realise it either, at least until I saw…" He went oddly silent, sneering at the floor, his claws curling. "If I had just realised it sooner… If I had _known_ …"

"Known what?" Charla snapped. "You attacked us! You tried to hurt her!"

Because that was what had happened—Charla remembered it now. She remembered him lashing out, his face set with fury; she remembered his claws tearing Nuala away from her, and Meredy's scared attempts to plead with him, begging for him to stop. Her blood pulsed.

"She would have deserved it," Lance growled. "Don't you realise? She was—"

"She didn't do anything to you! We were just sharing magic! We just wanted you to leave us alone!"

"She was controlling you, Charla, for ancestors' sake!"

" _Excuse me_? What is that supposed to—"

"Stop it, both of you!" Meredy's high-pitched, tremulous cry cut straight through Charla's retort, which died pitifully on her tongue. Meredy's eyes were brimming with tears again, but her face was set with a blaze of angry desperation. She dropped her voice quickly, though no ape came running. "Stop _fighting_! We can't afford to— w-we've got to— This isn't the right time for any of this! W-we're captured and we're hurt and w-we don't know what's going to happen to us, and Charla's right!"

Pink-faced, she stared them both down, her lower jaw trembling. "W-we can't just sit here and wait for the apes to do what…whatever they want with us. We have to do something. We have to try. M-maybe Nuala is still alive and will figure out h-how to rescue us, but—but we don't know that. There h-has to be something we can do to help ourselves."

She rubbed her eyes and looked away, her breaths shuddering visibly through her ribcage. "J-just don't fight, please… We can talk about this later. Please…"

Her voice bled into silence. For a long moment, Lance and Charla stared at each other, like fire against fire—and then Lance let his head fall back with a muted _thud_ of horns on wood.

"You're right," he breathed to the sky. "You're right… I'm sorry."

Charla continued to glare at him, but the anger was already draining out of her, and all it left behind was this confused, detached feeling, as if Lance was an old friend she could barely remember—as if the path they had once walked together had split somewhere and led them, without realising, in different directions. She was a stranger, an outcast, an alien.

How she wished that Nuala was still with her. She sat down slowly, her stomach aching, and tried not to think about how this had happened, what she had done.

"There's nothing we can do right now," Lance said, his voice calmer now, but without the defeated lilt it had held before. "The apes have us too well contained. But they'll want us in good condition if they want to trade us to pirates, so we're safe for now. And once we're in Skavenger hands… Maybe we can figure something out. Some way to escape…"

He didn't mention Nuala, whether he believed her alive or not, but Charla didn't voice any disagreement. Meredy gave a tiny nod. His head rolled towards Charla again.

"And kid? If… Once we get out of this, you and I are going to have a nice long chat, alright? One we should have had a long time ago, if I had… If I hadn't been…" But he trailed off, a strange look in his eyes, and turned his face away.

Charla set her jaw. Her eyes were stinging, and hot tears were threatening to escape down her face, but she refused to let them. She didn't even know what she felt anymore. Angry? Scared? Guilty? Or some painful mixture of all three? She didn't know what Lance wanted to talk about, but she could guess. After all, this was all her fault. They wouldn't be here if it wasn't for her.

She swallowed with difficulty and managed to force out a few words. "I-I'm sorry. I kn-know this is my fault, b-but I didn't mean… I didn't mean to…"

"I know, kid," Lance sighed without looking at her. "I know you didn't mean this to happen. But it did. And we're here, whether you meant it or not. That's the thing about mistakes and bad choices… They always come with consequences. I just hope you'll remember that in the future."

And Charla—gazing into the yawning darkness and hoping against hope that, somewhere, somehow, Nuala was still alive—couldn't bring herself to respond.


End file.
